


Glædig Jul

by gimmefire, Tasyfa



Series: Saints Universe [6]
Category: Green Day, Metallica
Genre: Christmas, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-06-17
Updated: 2007-06-22
Packaged: 2017-12-05 02:34:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 22,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/717867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gimmefire/pseuds/gimmefire, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tasyfa/pseuds/Tasyfa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>'Motherfuck</i>forhelvede <i>I'm gonna do it.'</i> Christmas time, mistletoe and wine - and lube, and barstools, and rice pudding... Billie and Lars are spending their first Christmas together as a couple, time divided between their respective families, and so far it's running surprisingly smoothly. That is until they find a gift on Lars's doorstep that could push their relationship to a whole new level or derail them completely...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"It'f dlaedig dool," Lars spluttered, sending out flecks of his dessert over the table. Layne and Myles instantly burst out in a fit of oddly harmonising giggles at their father, who was now dabbing up the small lumps of rice pudding with his napkin.  
  
"Daddy, how's he s'posed to get it if he can't even understand you?" Myles grinned, while Layne just continued to giggle devilishly, hiding his grin behind his oversized spoon. Lars stubbornly finished his mouthful in silence, frown creasing his brow to prove just how serious he was, even in the face of laughing children and a quietly amused father at the head of the table.  
  
"You shouldn't really talk with your mouth full," Torben chided, righting the silver paper crown on his head, which only served to amuse Myles and Layne more. "It's a very bad example."  
  
Lars finally swallowed and looked to the young boys. His voice softened a little, eyebrows raising, genuinely serious for once. "Well, I hope my sons are smart enough to know when not to emulate their daddy, huh?"  
  
Both children nodded, Layne doing so with great vigour as he scooped another spoonful of rice pudding from his bowl. "I'm smart."  
  
"Yes you are." Lars wiped at his mouth overly delicately and turned to the person beside him, the person he'd been addressing in the first place. "Okay, Merry Christmas in Danish, or the equivalent, is _glædig jul_." He pronounced it slower. "Glay-dhee yool. Try it."  
  
 _Glay-dhee yool. Glay-dhee yool. You can say that,_ Billie Joe told himself. He finished his bite of pudding, even more self-conscious about etiquette after Lars's rather spectacular disregard of it, and opened his mouth.  
  
"Glad-hay yull," was what came out. He winced, rolling his eyes dramatically at the giggling boys. A few more attempts, each more mangled than the last, and Billie gave up with a rueful smile. He had enough trouble wrapping his tongue around some stuff in English and that was his native language. "Maybe I'll get it by next Christmas."  
  
He went back to his dessert. It was good; the entire meal had been good, just a little bit…off. Not in a bad way but most of the dishes had simply tasted slightly different than what he was accustomed to – used different spices, or different combinations of flavours. Nor was Billie used to Christmas Eve being a big deal. Like most Americans, he'd always celebrated on Christmas Day. But for all that Lars had lived here for decades, he was European in his traditions and so here they were, gathered around Torben Ulrich's table, on December 24th. Eating incredibly rich, fragrant pudding that didn't seem like it should be possible to make with something as humble as rice.  
  
Silver glinted at him from everywhere he looked. The house was beautifully decorated in wintry shades, the cool metallic complemented by the white of the snow they didn't get in California. His gaze crossed Torben's and Billie smiled. He'd met Lars's father briefly before but hadn't spent any real time with him until this evening. He'd been a gracious host; Billie wouldn't have expected anything else, given the little he knew of him. His own tension had eased considerably by this point in time, aided by that graciousness and the happy kids, and Lars just being himself. It was a nice family dinner and he was acutely aware that it felt like a family dinner. Like he'd been included in this one.  
  
Billie took another spoonful, reflecting gratefully for what had to be the millionth time that the Danish tradition of celebrating tonight instead made it one hell of a lot easier to juggle this with the two families he already had to accommodate for the holidays.  
  
Lars scraped at his bowl, chewing and swallowing another mouthful and grinning. "Guess we'll wait 'til Christmas 2008 to teach you _glædig jul og godt nytår_. And there's a Danish Christmas carol or two for the following years."  
  
He heard Billie snuff a laugh, which made him grin wider. He actually felt kind of giddy – initial excited nerves had faded out into true elation, his lover having settled in so well here tonight. He hadn't even grimaced at the odd mix of traditional Danish and traditional American Christmas food which had become the norm in the Ulrich household at this time of year. Billie was part of the family now; tonight had sealed the deal.  
  
Both Layne and Myles thanked their father and grandfather as they finished off their dessert, and Lars heaved a deep, satisfied sigh, pushing his chair out. "Alright, it's getting late." He nodded at his sons. "If you guys start getting ready for bed now, you can watch _Spongebob_ before you go to sleep, okay? But you've gotta make sure you keep the curtains closed and you don't look out the window. If Santa gets to California early this year and you see him flying past, he might just conveniently forget to drop off some gifts for you." Layne looked momentarily stricken until his father reassured him with a secretive murmur. "If we have to, I'll explain to him that you're really good and you didn't mean to see him, and I'll say the same for me. I'll talk him around. You know I'm good at that."  
  
The brothers nodded and grinned. "Okay," Layne whispered, eyes wide and eager.  
  
Lars returned the grin, standing up and jerked his head towards Billie. "Alright then. Say g'night to your uncle."  
  
Layne slid down from his chair and toddled over to Billie, stretching his arms out for a hug and gleefully whispering, "I like you!" into his ear. Myles followed, altogether more exaggerated in his embrace, throwing his arms around the frontman's neck. After a tight squeeze, he retreated and tilted his head, looking quizzical. A beat, and he spoke. "Your hair feels weird. Maybe you should wash it."  
  
At that, Lars full-on cackled. Layne giggled, clasping his hands over his mouth as his shoulders shook. The same wicked sparkle found so often in his father's eyes was all too apparent in his own.  
  
Billie ignored Lars completely and smiled at the kids, leaning forward to speak in a conspiratorial whisper. "Can I tell you a secret?" When they both nodded, he continued, "Have you ever seen your mom or dad iron something, maybe a shirt like this?" He pointed to his own white shirt and tie. "Well, they iron it to take out all the wrinkles so they can dress up for something important. And I have a special kind of iron that I use on my hair for when I wanna dress up."  
  
He controlled the urge to laugh at the saucer eyes staring back at him. That sparkle in Layne's had been replaced by intense curiosity and Billie gently asked, "Would you like to touch it?" He bent down at the nod, feeling small fingers tug at his hair for just a moment before the boy darted back to his brother's side. Now he did grin, seeing Layne open and close his hand, frowning at the after-impressions of the admittedly crunchy spikes. Billie gave them a little wave. "I think your dad said something about p.j.s and _Spongebob_ , huh? Gotta be ready for Santa. Merry Christmas!"  
  
The two boys looked at each other and giggled, then chorused, "Glad-hay yull!" and broke for the stairs, repeating the mangled phrase to each other. Billie groaned out a laugh as they disappeared from sight.  
  
"Why didn't you try teaching me to say that earlier, dude?" At Lars's amused snort, Billie finally looked at him, promptly crossing his eyes and sticking out his tongue at his boyfriend. He knew perfectly well why: Lars wouldn't have been able to watch him squirm that way.  
  
The silly expression got him the desired belly laugh and Billie settled into a normal grin, undisguised warmth in hazel eyes. "I miss that age. Not enough to go through potty training and the rest of it again, but it's a good one."  
  
He rose slightly belatedly as both the Ulrich men stood and his vague sense of not knowing what to do now seemed to have been noticed since Lars shoved a stack of plates into his midsection, overriding Torben's protests that Billie was a guest with that one gesture.  
  
A comfortable silence accompanied the domestic chores; neither was a stranger to this process, even with each other. Lars had had a point: 'guest' didn't adequately cover Billie's presence here. Ditto for the drummer's visits to the Armstrong home, which, while not all that frequent, were no longer characterised by abject panic or distress on anyone's part but rather indicated a growing level of understanding for all parties involved. 'Guest' had become 'family friend'; was becoming simply 'family', however unorthodox.  
  
Billie hung the dish towel on its hook when they were done and moved to Lars, one hand rising to ghost over the lines defined around his mouth. "Happy looks good on you, Uli."  
  
Lars gave a self-deprecating snort. "It's a rare sight, huh? Surprised it hasn't scared you off." He caught Billie's hand as it lowered, tugging the younger man that bit closer until their bodies came into contact, and brought Billie's wrist to his mouth, pressing a kiss to the inked skin. His other hand raised to settle at Billie's waist. "Thank you for coming tonight," he said with total sincerity. "It means a lot to me, and it means a lot to my dad, though he might not cop to it outright."  
  
Informing his father of his relationship with Billie, and thus his bisexuality, had been a breeze. Torben had reacted to the news with a nod, a smile, a brief pause and a murmur along the lines of, 'I can see how content you are', and that had been that. Never mind the fact that Lars had returned home that night positively glowing.  
  
"I'll say my goodnights and we can head out, okay?" At the nod, Lars turned and, not relinquishing Billie's hand, headed for the door. Suddenly, he paused in the doorway and turned back to face his lover, eyes raised up. "Fuck, would ya look at that," he drawled. "Pretty corny for him to stick up some fuckin' mistletoe."  
  
He bit back a grin as Billie looked up, puzzled when he saw no sprig of greenery dangling above his head. The stifled grin became a spluttered laugh when hazel eyes returned to his, confused.  
  
"I cannot believe you actually fell for that," Lars chuckled, earning himself a playful scowl from the other man. To compensate, he gave an exaggerated pout and pulled Billie in close, claiming a kiss anyway. He felt Billie's lips, tasting of cinnamon and all the more appealing for it, curve into a smile as they parted.  
  
A few minutes later, Lars closed the door on his sons, already absorbed in _Spongebob_ goodness, and swept down the stairs. The smile on his face was this time thanks to Myles, who had solemnly and almost secretively informed his father that he thought Billie was nice, and that the two of them liked him, even if he had weird hair. Layne had nodded in concurrence, and Lars, well, he felt giddy about it. Billie was okay by them. Fuck, honestly, he was giddy.  
  
He stopped on the bottom step, hearing voices coming from the dining room, and decided to do what any self-respecting man would do on hearing his father and his lover indulging in a conversation without him: eavesdrop. He sat down in the semi-darkness and propped himself against the wall, his father's voice filtering through the double doors.  
  
"Lars hasn't said a lot, but from tonight, I can see how happy you make him. If you don't mind me saying so, I see it vice versa as well. For that, you're welcome to visit here any time you wish."  
  
Open surprise crossed Billie's face at Torben's forthrightness, particularly coming on the heels of the nostalgia of the stories he'd been telling about Lars's childhood, but a warm smile followed almost instantly.  
  
"Your son doesn't usually say a lot, for all that he rarely stops talking. You sorta have to read between the lines, like he's got his own form of Braille or something." His smile widened at the other man's chuckle. Billie hesitated only a moment before adding, "He does make me happy, you're right. And, _tak_."  
  
He might not have thought to look up – or practise – the Danish equivalent of 'Merry Christmas', but the monosyllabic word for 'thank you' was one he could easily manage and Torben's expression made him glad that he had. Lars's father had been the one Billie had been most nervous about, not the boys. He'd worn the badge of 'Uncle Billie' for a very long time now; being the baby of a large family, he was comfortable and then some with kids. More comfortable than with many adults, if he were honest. Billie found the lack of bullshit in the under-ten set very appealing.  
  
As much as Billie and Lars joked sometimes about the idea of having started up this relationship back in '89, meeting Torben – having a conversation with him, more precisely – had made Billie extremely glad that he'd bought a few clues in the years since then. The man was _smart_. Nowadays Billie was fairly well-read and had a good grasp on world events, enough to hold his own, anyway. Ten to fifteen years ago, he'd been a pretty ignorant bastard. He'd have made a total mess of an evening like this back then.  
  
He and Torben stood in a tableau for a moment, sharing a not-quite-spoken understanding about the man they both cared about so very much. A hint of wistfulness crept into Billie's mind at the thought that his own father would have been as welcoming.  
  
Lars himself dispelled the moment when he re-entered the room and Billie Joe turned to face him, body automatically orienting towards his lover.  
  
"They didn't, like, tape the curtains shut or anything on you, I take it?"  
  
"Huh?" Lars blinked, the slight quirk in his eyebrow the only indication that he may have overheard something. "Um, no. Shit, you think I should go take away Myles's masking tape?" A beat, and he grinned wide. He slipped his hands into his pockets as he reached Billie. "Though you should know, Layne said that when he gets back to school in January, he's gonna tell all his friends that his daddy has a friend who irons his hair."  
  
The three of them chuckled, and the drummer nudged Billie affectionately with his shoulder, leaning on him a little. He felt warmth swell in his chest.  
  
Lars was loathe to draw comparisons at this late stage in their relationship, but this one was important to Lars and the word that had triggered it had echoed in his head since it had passed Billie's lips.  
  
 _Tak_.  
  
James had never learned a word of Danish. To Lars's knowledge, he'd never tried. Not that the drummer wanted to paint his ex as the bad guy or anything; he'd never been overly bothered by it. He acknowledged that it wasn't the easiest language to learn from an English speaker's point of view, and he was fine with that. No biggie. But Billie? He'd apparently gone off, on his own initiative and without Lars having mentioned it at all, and learned _thank you_.  
  
It was significant, even if he himself hadn't been the addressee. Lars wasn't about to let that pass without acknowledgement – in his own Larsian way, of course, and when the time was right. For now he merely gave a sly look, a sweet smile and a kiss to Billie's temple. He nodded towards the bottle set atop the polished oak cabinet with around a glassful of Merlot left inside.  
  
"Cab's due in another five minutes. Wanna finish off the wine?"  
  
"Yeah, sure," Billie agreed, hand lingering along Lars's arm as his boyfriend stepped away to pour. The ruby liquid lent its weight to the pleasant buzz in his system, and then Billie found himself standing beside the open cab door watching Lars say goodnight to his father.  
  
The hug was slightly awkward in the way of many men but the smiles were bright and sincere, and that little wisp of wistfulness blossomed in his chest as he and Lars climbed into the vehicle. Billie Joe continued to watch Lars, wordlessly, until the drummer tilted his head and made a face, clearly telling him to quit it. A small smile curved his mouth.  
  
"I envy you that sometimes, did you know? My family is…well, you've met my mom. I love her but we've never really connected, and my brothers and sisters are all so much older that we've never been close, either." He snorted. "We called our first full-length _39/Smooth_ because my brother had just turned thirty-nine; I was barely eighteen. More than twice my fucking age, dude."  
  
His gaze slid away, visualising the stark hospital room with practised ease – the shrunken figure of the one family member who'd truly known him. Billie was no different from millions of other people in that beloved ghosts drifted through his heart during the holidays. Some years it hit harder than others. This year was turning out to be one of those, what with the demonstrable closeness between Torben and Lars and the unprecedented distance between Billie and his eldest son. He wondered if Torben had any idea that his open-hearted welcome had reached quite so deep.  
  
He gave a tiny shrug and another smile at his boyfriend's quizzical expression. "Adrienne's been my only real family for a long time. And Mike and Tré." Billie paused, looking right at Lars, hopefully conveying the full story behind his scant words. "Change is good sometimes."  
  
Lars regarded Billie silently for a few moments, eventually giving a small smile and slight nod. His gaze broke from his lover's and fell to focus on his jacket sleeve. Absently he curled his finger into the chain of his dog tag necklace as he spoke. "I'm very much aware of how lucky I am to have had the upbringing I had, and how lucky I am to have my dad. Talking strictly in terms of blood, my mom's been gone for almost nine years, and since then it's just been me and him. Of course my kids are in that equation, but that's all – it's a pretty small family.  
  
"I really don't want to sound corny, but the term 'family' is whatever you choose to make of it. Like you, I have a family in my band. I have a family in some of the guys and girls at HQ, I have a brother in Bob Rock, and like you, like a real family, I'm closer to some than others. My real family consists of the people I choose to let in and choose to get close to. Blood isn't truly important, not in the grand scheme of things." He quirked an eyebrow and returned his gaze to unlined hazel. "Then there are also some people who let themselves in like they own the place, and that's fine too."  
  
He slid his hand across to grasp Billie's. "Change _is_ good." A brief pause, and the drummer leaned over to press a kiss to the younger man's jaw, just by his ear. Before he pulled away, he murmured with an audible smirk, " _Tak_. And, obviously, _værsgod_. That means 'you're welcome'."  
  
His heart fluttered suddenly, and he gave a small, nervous sounding giggle despite himself as he sat back. Since returning from setting his sons up with their _Spongebob_ DVD, he might have appeared a little edgy; since sitting on the stairs and hearing his father and his lover talk, something had begun dawning on him. In truth it had been niggling at his mind for some months now, but tonight had been different, important, skewing his thoughts, and through it all that something had suddenly risen in prominence. Lars was very goddamned close to making a decision about his relationship with Billie.  
  
The cab ride was soon over – and it should be noted that the only time Lars's hand left Billie's was to pay the driver – and the two of them walked up the driveway, the gravel crunching under their feet, the taxi's engine as it rolled away and the beat and chatter of a party a block away the only sounds carrying on the chilly Marin County breeze. Lars slowed down briefly but noticeably as his front door came into view. There was a package waiting for him on his doorstep.  
  
"Oh. I didn't think…" he trailed off, then looked at Billie. "It's from James."  
  
"Okay," Billie replied slowly. Lars's words and expression told him both that this was a tradition, and that he hadn't expected it to continue. After all, he and James had still been a couple last Christmas. And this wasn't just some stupid gift exchange. It wasn't like how Billie and Mike had given each other their Christmas presents: with Tré, as a band. This had nothing to do with Metallica. This was personal.  
  
Something began to burn low in his gut. It left a sharp aftertaste as he murmured, "It's okay, I'll get the door and you get the present."  
  
He dug out his keys, finding the correct one and entering the house then stepping immediately to the side to disarm the alarm system. The sequence was automatic by now; Billie didn't even think about what he was doing. Instead, his brain was focussed on the gaily wrapped box in his lover's hands.  
  
He smiled at Lars – a gentle smile, or it tried to be, because the drummer looked a little shaken. He'd been ambushed as much as Billie Joe had. The simmering anger that had lurked just outside of Billie's conscious thought for nearly a year now, since Lars had paced in bitter circles in a deserted ballroom and explained exactly how well James had handled finding the two of them together, catapulted to the forefront with a vengeance at his lover's visible reaction. Restless energy surged through Billie and he reined it in, controlling it. He wouldn't take this out on Lars. He would not.  
  
Billie nodded at his boyfriend's hands. The box held there was larger than the one he'd brought and he squelched the automatic urge to turn that into some kind of pissing contest – especially since at this point, with his gift still waiting to be unwrapped, he'd lose. Never mind that James was the one who had lost – who had _given up_ – the true prize, or that Billie felt totally secure in this relationship now. Some things went deeper than logic.  
  
When he spoke again, he was careful to keep his tone neutral. "Do you want to open that now?"  
  
"Um," Lars offered in reply, eyes still on the box, brow creased. He looked up. "Do you mind? It can wait, I'm just curious." He looked down at the package again, voice growing a little quieter. "It wasn't even a regular thing, and I didn't think he'd want to continue."  
  
He turned the box over in his hands. _Fuck, he could've warned me,_ he thought, annoyed. Then again, James had never mentioned that he was buying a gift in any of the years previous; it was part of the deal. Their arrangement was that if one felt like getting the other a special present, then to go ahead and do it. No guilt trips, no obligation, no notification, just real casual. Lars had assumed this arrangement had come to an end with the relationship, or at least to have a 'cooling off' period for just this year. Evidently James thought otherwise. _Or he's just doing it to fuck with me,_ Lars thought acidly, but the pessimistic feeling faded. His voice had dropped further when he spoke again, this time looking directly at Billie.  
  
"Maybe this is an apology." He did not hide the hope from his tone.  
  
They walked through to the living room, Lars depositing the gift on the coffee table before sitting down and eyeing it with a degree of trepidation. _He wouldn't be that much of a dick,_ he told himself. _Not now, not so suddenly, not after all this time. He wouldn't._ He licked at his top lip and looked at his lover seated next to him, once again needing the eye contact to reassure himself and hoping it would have the same effect for the other man. He hadn't failed to notice the tension in Billie's expression, in his voice, on first sight of the gift, and he hoped beyond hope that it wouldn't overshadow the rest of the night. Then he grasped the glossy silver star bow and pulled it free, ripping the red foil paper and revealing a plain brown box. There was a note stuck to it.  
  
 _Legs are back at HQ. Happy Xmaz, Squirt! – James_  
  
"Legs?" Lars couldn't help but give a mystified giggle. "You think he might've got me a sex doll?" The clench in his stomach eased – the wording of the note was completely innocent, if confusing, and Billie seemed to have relaxed a little. Without any further procrastination, he lifted the lid and revealed James's gift.  
  
A round, black leather stool seat, embossed with a red ninja star, which was encircled by spiked white lettering reading 'Metallica' and 'Daddy Ul'. _He_ wouldn't _be that much of a dick._  
  
It wasn't an apology, but it wasn't by any means a cruel dig, and that made it all right. It made a smile appear on his face as he lifted it out. "Wow, that's pretty cool." He set it down on the coffee table and simply looked at it for a few moments. Without looking up, he spoke. "You know, after the initial shock of it, is it weird that it's not weird? I thought it would be, but it's just a gift, and you're here, and I'm way more excited to spend my time with you than spend it worrying and sulking over some silly hidden meaning. It's an awesome gift, but I don't wanna waste my fuckin' energy analysing subtext that I don't really think is there."  
  
Lars paused, and his mouth moved as if he wanted to say something else, but no sound emerged. Instead, he shifted around, leg tucking under himself as he turned to Billie and leaned in and gave his lover a serious kiss, fingers sliding along the pale skin of his neck and pushing into raven hair. _This is much more important._  
  
Billie accepted the kiss, returning it with interest; wilfully losing himself in the dance of lips, tongues, teeth, rhythm. He echoed Lars's gesture and cupped the back of his lover's head, urging him closer even as Billie moved. He rose onto his knees and straddled Lars right there on the couch, mouth sucking greedily at another and body pressing the drummer tight against the plush leather.  
  
A personalised barstool. It evidenced forethought and knowledge of the Dane, but it was neither the 'I want you back' nor the 'Fuck you' statement that Billie had feared. Indeed, it was a gift between bandmates after all – the note about the legs made it clear that the stool was meant to be used at HQ. And it really didn't mean anything beyond that. He knew it didn't; had known it as soon as Lars had ripped off the paper. Maybe even before that.  
  
Billie Joe was not a jealous man. He'd never been one to keep tabs on his partners or prevent them from flirting, preferring to place his trust in his relationships instead, and he did trust Lars. Completely. But he also had certain lines in the sand in his personal headspace – lines that, though they might defy logic and seem to contradict that very real trust, affected him strongly when they were crossed. Mike kissing Adie that long-ago night had been such a line. Finding a Christmas present from James on his boyfriend's doorstep appeared to be another.  
  
His free hand slipped down Lars's torso to tug up his shirt and find the skin of his back, short nails digging in as they continued to kiss. His hips rocked against the drummer and finally he broke away. Breathing heavily, hazels glowing with possessive desire, he asked, "Do you wanna move this upstairs?"  
  
A thrill shot up Lars's spine as he was pressed back, and he had to suppress a shiver at the abrupt change in Billie's demeanour. He might have expected it if he'd been more focussed – James and his influence continued to shimmer in the shadows of Lars's mind and his relationship, and though after this many months that influence was passing at best, there were occasions, like tonight, where it would spike for one reason or another and Billie would then make his presidence over Lars's heart very much known. Lars himself had no objection.  
  
This seat, as innocent as it was in itself, held an importance that he was only now realising. _Pretty fuckin' ironic that James has once again provided the final bit of impetus to push me into making a decision about me and Billie that has this kind of weight._  
  
His throat suddenly tightened as he realised exactly what he'd just thought, and the shock of it showed clear in his eyes as he looked up at Billie. Billie, who was hunched over him, straddling him, heat and desire radiating from that compact body, the familiar and intoxicating scent that came from his lover when in this mood. One that promised sweat and dizziness and _too much_ , the smell of sex. It was a complete suckerpunch. Lars looked into lustrous hazel eyes and sought security, gripping Billie's shoulder as his thoughts scattered in alarm.  
  
 _Motherfuck. Motherfuck. I'm gonna do it. That stool seat and those eyes and it's Christmas and motherfuck_ forhelvede _I'm gonna do it._ His nerves jangled and his heart tripped over itself, but after a moment or two they settled a little. The hand at Billie's shoulder relaxed and slid down his side, stroking at hidden skin. Suddenly subdued and eyes still reading as a little spooked, he repeated what Billie had said in his mind.  
  
 _Do you wanna move this upstairs?_  
  
"Yeah, I do."  
  
He grasped Billie's arm as he slid out from under him, kissing his throat and pulling him up as he stood, his heart beating out a loud rhythm.  
  
Billie managed to remain standing, though he wobbled somewhat less than gracefully at the sudden movement. Or maybe because his mind was stuck on wide green eyes full of…something. Not fear. He was sure of that much. Surprise for certain, and something else… Billie shook his head in an attempt to clear it. _Too much wine, Armstrong. What the fuck would be surprising about you having sex with him?_ It wasn't even their first major holiday together – they'd definitely fucked at Thanksgiving. Long, slow, and lazy; too sleepy afterwards to even bother cleaning up.  
  
But this was Christmas, which Billie Joe had gradually come to realise was a big deal for Lars. Maybe he took Christmas sex very seriously, made it into this important, romantic thing or whatever. A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth as they climbed the stairs, fingers entwined. Yeah, that made sense to him. He didn't know anyone who threw themselves into romance the way his boyfriend did when the mood took him.  
  
He stumbled a little, coughing, as the vivid imagery popped up of doing some very naughty things to Lars on that new seat, the crisp edges of the lettering blurring with white splattering across the leather surface. _Shut up, brain._ But the idea of breaking in that gift before Lars took it to HQ – of knowing that every time the drummer sat on it, he'd be reminded of Billie Joe, even in the heart of his band's space, even though the barstool had been from James – it held a wicked, visceral appeal that he couldn't deny in the privacy of his own mind. And didn't really want to, anyway; Billie did still enjoy an active fantasy life, and some things still belonged only to the realm of fantasy. He was just feeling a little territorial right now. It would eventually pass.  
  
When they reached the master bedroom, Billie leaned back against the red-lacquered wall and pulled Lars to him, placing the drummer's hands on his ass and grinding against him. His mouth sought another pair of full lips, nipping at them before murmuring, "Not being able to touch you for hours drives me fucking crazy, y'know. And the mistletoe fake-out doesn't count."  
  
Lars giggled, and the sound was definitely a nervous one; a quizzical look crossed Billie's face, and the drummer realised he should probably quit acting like the coy little virgin schoolgirl he emphatically wasn't, before he killed the mood altogether. He swallowed and paused to calm himself. _Quit thinking so much, Uli, fuck._ After a moment of centring, he brought his focus back to his lover.  
  
"You telling me you didn't enjoy that, huh?" he smirked. He dipped his head to graze teeth along Billie's neck. "Maybe next time I should just leave you alone for the whole night, wind you right up with all the subtle looks and secret gestures I can think of 'til you have to drag me off 'for a smoke'." He licked at the younger man's earlobe, teeth following tongue as he nibbled at the soft skin, hands sneaking under a crisp white shirt to tease at the inked body beneath. "I think you know how much I enjoy tormenting you 'til you pop."  
  
 _Last time I did something like that, it cost me two hundred dollars in bedroom repairs,_ he thought, grinning at the memory.  
  
Billie groaned softly, and Lars hummed against skin in reply. Heat was beginning to pool low in his stomach, a dull burn that made his fingers itch to pull off that shirt, spread his lover out on those satin sheets and make him over as he'd done so many times before… His thought pattern stopped abruptly, even as Billie rocked against him again and made his breath hitch. _No. Not tonight. Something deeper, something better, something more. Tonight's important._  
  
Motherfuckforhelvede _I'm gonna do it._  
  
"Billie?" he found himself saying, looking into those dilating hazels and knowing he was probably bewildering the frontman something terrible. No words could make their way from his throat, and for a moment he just stood there stupidly. Unable to decide how to broach the subject verbally, Lars settled on continuing with the physical for now, quick fingers unbuttoning Billie's shirt while he moved in for another kiss. The tie and the shirt crumpled to the floor, followed by his own shirt, their belts, fumbling at buttons and zips, all the while keeping the rhythm of lips and tongue and hushed moans. Slowly he began to back them both towards the bed.  
  
"Oh, yeah. I know how you love to torment me." _And how much I enjoy it, too._ Billie's answering grin faded slightly at yet another odd little pause, but when they began moving he dismissed it, focussing on keeping their lips connected. Lars hit the mattress first and Billie kept right on going, knees spreading to crawl over the drummer as he pulled himself up the bed until they were both closer to the centre.  
  
He groaned at the contact when he flattened his body against Lars's. Fuck, you'd think they'd gone months without being skin-to-skin instead of days. But it felt so fucking good to press close and nip at a pierced ear. To slide a little farther down and tug at another piece of metal and feel dusky flesh tighten in his mouth.  
  
To curl still-chilled fingers around hard warmth in total confidence that when his boyfriend started to get at all uncomfortable, he would let Billie know to back off. Physically, more often than not: throwing the frontman onto his back or pinning his wrists. The unspoken agreement between them allowed Lars to preserve his boundaries while giving Billie the ability to push as hard as he wanted to. So long as he stayed out of forbidden territory, anyway, which was second nature by now.  
  
Billie dragged wet lips across his lover's collarbone and then sank his teeth into the thin skin, sucking hard enough to bruise. He felt a tremor run through Lars, overshadowing the small noise he made. It didn't feel quite like his normal reaction. In fact, none of this was quite right and it was starting to piss him off. He pulled away and moved until his legs clasped nude hips and his arms bracketed the Dane's head, staring down into green eyes.  
  
A hint of exasperation accompanied the laughter in Billie Joe's voice. "Do I need to rub my crotch in your face to keep your attention here? 'Cause I can do that." His face softened as that indefinable something rose in Lars's gaze and Billie brushed a tender kiss along parted lips before continuing in a gentler tone, "You're thinking so fucking hard that I can hear the gears grinding in there, Uli. Sex doesn't usually require a lot of thought. Especially not the way we do it, 'cause if it did, we wouldn't end up with holes in your wall or having to call Tré to extricate us or shit like that. What gives, hmm? Talk to me."  
  
His boyfriend might have the tendency to clam up tight when something was bothering him, but now that he could recognise a lot of the signals, Billie didn't usually let him. Even the vicious fights this stubbornness occasionally spawned didn't deter him. He had no intention of ever getting so goddamned twisted around like he had last spring at that stupid dinner party and if that required teasing, cajoling, or straight-up head-bashing the whatever-it-was out of Lars, he was fine with that. It beat the hell out of the alternative. And sometimes the make-up sex was an uncontrollable explosion between them, too, which definitely did not suck.  
  
Another kiss, lingering sweetly, and he murmured, "I love you, you stubborn fuck. So spill."  
  
 _Jesus, Jesus!_ Alarm bells and sirens and fireworks and all kinds of noise was going off in Lars's head, and the sight of Billie looming over him – or, more accurately, the feel of his lover's thighs pressing against his hips – was helping none. It wasn't as if Billie had never been in that position before, but with how nervous he currently was it only served to stir his mind up more. Billie's words only just broke through the cacophony, and Lars, for a moment, took on the look of a deer in headlights. He willed his mind to shut the fuck up for just a minute while he calmed himself.  
  
"Well here's a funny thing for ya – I really don't think I can." He gave a weak chuckle, and Billie began to look genuinely concerned. "I-I'm okay, I'm fine, I'm not trying to be stubborn, I just don't know how to, y'know, _say_." He gestured helplessly and chuckled again. He took a breath, hand coming up and clasping the back of the other man's neck, fingertips rubbing at the muscles. He took another breath, deeper this time, and raised his head to claim another slow kiss. _I love you and I'm okay._  
  
That was the thing: though his mind was spinning and his nerves made his hands tremble and he felt just a little nauseous, he still wanted to do it. No doubt this was helped by his lover's technique of wriggling through and breaking the introverted state he'd get himself into on occasions when something was really bothering him. This kiss, and the ones before, soothed him, placated his mind and settled his stomach. They gave him confidence, assured him that this was the right time, right place – that he was finally _there_. Billie assured him through little more than the press of sweet lips that he would accept what Lars was about to do, and that he could completely trust in himself and his lover, whatever followed.  
  
 _I love you and I'm okay._  
  
When he broke away, he looked up at Billie, nervousness dulled in his eyes. Without a word, he pushed himself up the bed and out from underneath the frontman, crawling over to the side. _Has the bed always been this big?_ He reached down and pulled open the bottom drawer of his bedside cabinet and, lubricant in hand, silently moved back to Billie, tucking himself back in exactly the same position he was before. His lover did indeed look rather bewildered now, mouth beginning to form words when Lars grasped his hand and placed the tube into his palm, closing his fingers around it. The drummer looked at the tube for a few moments, before clear green rose to meet hazel. Finally, he raised his legs to wrap around Billie's waist. Hands splayed on a tattooed chest, he spoke, his voice husky.  
  
"Start slow, okay?"


	2. Chapter 2

_"Start slow, okay?"_  
  
The hesitant little giggles, the strange looks; suddenly it all made sense to Billie as his lover's legs closed around him and for a long moment his brain stopped altogether while he stared at Lars. When he could think again, he sat up – carefully, his hands going to support the solid thighs against his waist, though the feel of them there threatened to derail him again.  
  
He cleared his throat. "Lars, I…" As many times as he'd fantasised about this, or even fucking practised what he might say, he found himself struggling now. "Is it…is this because it's Christmas? Because I don't…it can't be a gesture like that, you know, it can't just be because it's romantic even if it is and," he paused, seeing his boyfriend's eyebrows draw together in a way he knew. Billie sighed impatiently.  
  
"Stop that. Stop fucking formulating a response already and just listen, okay? I just need you to stop thinking and listen to me a minute here, really listen. This is important to me, too." He waited until the high forehead smoothed and green eyes became thoughtful before he continued.  
  
"It isn't about just fucking, you know that. And I have never, ever not backed off when you wanted me to. I know you trust me to do that. But this is different, it's… I want it all. I want to be able to touch and taste and _do_ anything I want, and I need to be able to do that without you saying no. I'll take it as slow as you need me to – hell, I'll come up with some lame reindeer story for my kids if I'm still here in the morning – but I need to know that you won't call a halt."  
  
Lars's expression was the bewildered one now, mixed with a little disappointment and maybe even hurt. Billie tightened the grip on his thighs and tried to explain. Hard enough to do without the bodily instinct screaming through him to shut up already and go for it. So close, his lover was so close and so _open_ but it wasn't quite as simple as his libido wanted to make it.  
  
"Back at the villa, when you-when you asked me to stop, I… Well, I did, and I understood it when you said it hadn't been my mistake. I understand it a lot better now, knowing you a lot better. But that doesn't change the fact that it felt like-like I'd forced myself on you," he stumbled over the words a little, giving a sharp headshake when Lars would have said something. "I know I didn't. I know that. And you know you can trust me by this time, because we wouldn't be here if you didn't. I'm just trying to explain where I'm coming from, you know, why I need to have that total freedom with you. Because if you called a halt again, even as different as the circumstances are, I don't know that I'd be able to try the next time."  
  
Billie slipped his hands along Lars's hips and up, along the ribcage to slide under shoulders as he lowered his body, earnest hazels holding vulnerable green. He bent for a languid kiss and then raised his head, near-vibrating with how tightly he was holding in the need to devour; watching for the reaction when his hips slid forward that last little bit and his naked cock rubbed hard against Lars's ass, his own breath harsh at the feeling of it. "I need you to be sure you can give me everything, Uli. I need you to be _fucking sure_."  
  
Lars's chest shuddered as he felt Billie rub against him, sparks shooting along his spine and making his skin tingle. It was a base reaction, though; his lover's words had tilted things slightly for him. Though in the times when he'd thought about this moment, he'd never allowed himself to imagine the scenario past his own words or gesture of submission, never dared to inwardly tailor the perfect scene in case something went awry and he would be shattered by it. He'd been smart to do so, because he hadn't expected anything quite like this, not to this degree. For someone who'd just physically opened to their lover in the most intimate way, it did not help to instil confidence in him. As he thought about how to address everything Billie had said, his arms looped around Billie's neck in what was probably a subconscious move to keep him there, to make sure he wouldn't pull away with him feeling so very defenceless. Long lashes veiled green as he looked down at those strong thighs holding him, coming back to Billie's face as he found the words and expressed them quietly.  
  
"I don't want you to doubt me, I don't want you to think that there are any obstacles between us with this now. I-I mean, this is me. This is me opening to you completely in the only way I could think of. I'm sorry that I maybe didn't express myself a little clearer, but I'm nervous and I haven't done this for the first time in a long time." He became aware of his heart thrumming in his chest, and his gaze skittered away briefly, only to return to hazel to ensure his words were made clear.  
  
"I'm glad you brought up the villa. Obviously I'm not taking this lightly by any means, and no, it's definitely not because it's Christmas, even though I think you've guessed how important this holiday is to me. But do you really think, after all that happened, that I would just take the chance that I might be ready just because of the convenience of the season? After how much it fucked with both of us, that I'd be any less than a hundred and ten percent sure the next time?" A touch of frustration leaked into his voice as he continued. "It isn't fucking, I don't _want_ it to be fucking, God. I mean, please, don't think I'm getting corny here, but I want you to make love to me. I-I just," he shook his head. "Billie, I can't think of a better way that I can express that." He didn't consciously realise, but through the impassioned little speech, he was shaking a bit, and only now as he swallowed against a tight throat did he realise how emotional he was getting. This was one of the times, as he touched foreheads with his lover, arms tightening around his neck, where he hoped his feelings were showing clear through vibrant green eyes.  
  
"Please, don't let me have opened to you like this when you're not sure that I'm completely sure," he murmured in a voice just above a whisper. "I-I haven't done this in a while and I just become a completely different person like this, one you've never seen before. Right now the only thing I'm asking of you, the only boundary I'm giving you is to please take it easy with me at first. Everything else is yours. Please." He added something silently in his head, something that he would not be so exploitative as to voice in case it would sound as if he were trying to guilt Billie into this. _If you pulled away right now, I don't think I'd be able to handle it._  
  
"Okay. Okay. Shh," Billie soothed, feeling the way Lars trembled under him. He wasn't going to apologise for having asked for reassurance – he'd made interpretive mistakes before, big ones, and for all that he trusted his instincts this was too significant to wing it. He let himself relax, his body all but melting over his lover's, covering him securely and pressing a light kiss to full lips before he spoke. One hand cupped a Danish cheekbone, thumb stroking the crinkled skin at the corner of a green eye.  
  
"You say so much without words and I…sometimes I need to check that what I'm hearing is really what you're saying. Sometimes I need the words, Uli." He claimed another kiss, and another, the rhythm unhurried, full of gentle heat.  
  
 _I haven't done this for the first time in a long time._ Only now, with Lars having wholly opened himself, did the true sense of that penetrate. Billie knew that the last time his lover had bottomed had been almost a year ago. Not that long as time was usually measured. It was difficult to think of someone he'd been sleeping with all this time as virginal. Because Lars was, in fact, a very experienced lover – but almost entirely with women. For men, there had only been James. And while Billie had obviously known that, and known when that relationship had started, it hit him deeper now that his lover's last first time with a man had happened before Billie had even started high school.  
  
Tranquillity settled over him as his focus shifted, that burning need transmuting to a desire to please, to make this an experience that his boyfriend would be eager to repeat. _Take it easy on me,_ Lars had asked, and Billie would.  
  
He continued the kisses with no particular goal except to enjoy the taste and feel of Lars's mouth, and to give the drummer the chance to centre himself again. At length Billie broke away, nuzzling the smooth-shaven jaw until Lars turned his head slightly and he could reach that pierced ear with his mouth and trace its shell with the tip of his tongue. A small noise came from Lars and Billie grinned; it was clearly audible when he murmured, "You taste like cinnamon still. I like it. I like _this_ , and I want you. _Jeg elsker dig_."  
  
The only other phrase he'd learned in Danish. It felt like the time and place to say it, to reassure Lars as fully as he could that he wasn't going anywhere, but this time he didn't pause to gauge his lover's reaction. He simply recaptured that sweet mouth, smile lingering at the fervent, speechless response to what were three little words in both languages. _I love you._  
  
Lars almost choked on his breath when Billie bent for another kiss, eyes opening and going wide. Unable to speak for the lips covering and moving against his, he unlooped his arms from around Billie's neck and slid callused hands around his waist, up to his shoulder blades, nails biting into the skin just a little. The physical shock of those three words coursed through him like a wave, making the hair rise on his arms and his chest ache in a wonderful way, and after a few moments he was returning the kiss with intensity. Even when Billie broke off the kiss and seemed prepared to move his mouth's attention elsewhere, Lars made a noise of something akin to annoyance and cupped the side of the younger man's head, bringing their lips back together. _Fuck no, you can't say that to me and think you're getting away that easily._ When the kiss finally did end, they were both breathless, and Lars wore a disbelieving smile. His eyes shone. "Jesus, Bill, you tryin' to make me cry or something?" He raised his head for two, three little kisses before continuing, "I'd almost say it was fuckin' underhanded, if I didn't appreciate it so much."  
  
He laughed softly in the face of Billie's answering grin, rubbing his foot along his lover's thigh. " _Jeg elsker dig_." He licked at his top lip, nodding. " _Jeg elsker dig_."  
  
His nerves were settling. They weren't silent by any means, and they wouldn't be, not this first time. But Billie's words, his touch, his kisses soothed him, made him feel secure and needed, and…  
  
 _I want you._  
  
It may have been surprising, but those words held an importance to Lars all their own. It wasn't enough to be needed, he wanted to be _wanted_ , too, needed Billie to want him in this way, or else there would be no point in this at all. As much as he knew it already, right then it gave him an extra shot of confidence to hear it aloud. _I want you to want me, huh?_  
  
His smile faded a little, growing serious. He smoothed his hands over Billie's body, following curves and lines. He raised his head again, flicking the tip of his tongue along his lover's bottom lip, heat shimmering in his eyes. "You taste like you. I like that a lot, _min skat_ ," he murmured, voice low. Following his words with a slow, full kiss, Lars lifted his hips to rub against Billie's cock, giving a faint whine to the gentle mouth on his.  
  
Billie swallowed that whine, emitting a low moan himself at the brazen friction. He shifted slightly, feeling his cock slide fully into the groove between Lars's ass cheeks, and he began to rock his hips against his lover in a lazy rhythm without breaking the kiss. One hand remained anchored in curling brown hair; the other caressed bare skin in long strokes.  
  
The staccato whines and moans coming from Lars spiralled through him. Billie was grateful that he'd thought to learn those few words when he'd gone looking for a translation to etch onto the platinum dog tag; grateful he'd practised how to say them and thrilled at their impact. The small bit of metal nestled warm between their bodies now and he lifted just enough to slip his hand in there and tug on it, remembering the Dane's words when he'd first shown it to Billie. _I want people to know that I belong to someone._  
  
"Mine," he whispered against a swollen mouth. Billie reached above them for the pillows, raising up so he could stack them on the bed beside them, stripping the case from the bottom one. Satin-on-satin was too slippery for this; he needed the pillows to stay put, not shoot off the bed when pressed upon.  
  
He looked down at Lars, marvelling at his continued openness – at the emotion shining so clearly in those green eyes. He could see why his lover might say he became a different person, and it was true that Billie had never seen him quite like this, but it wasn't so very different after all. It was, simply, _more_ , and he sensed that as they continued, more would become all until the drummer had exposed his inner self utterly.  
  
The same way Billie did for him.  
  
Hazels shone warm when he sat all the way up and extended a hand to Lars, bending to kiss the fingers placed in his. "I want you to kneel in front of the pillows. Can you do that for me?"  
  
"Kneel?" Lars echoed somewhat vacantly, discombobulated by the lavish attention, blinking and looking to the pile beside him. His free hand came up to hang onto his dog tag as he sat up, as habit would have him do every so often, thumb passing over the engraving before moving up the bed to push himself into a kneeling position. This brought his face close to Billie's, and he nuzzled at his lover's jawline, squeezing the hand he held.  
  
He didn't know exactly why Billie needed him in front of the pillows; perhaps his nerves were throwing him off, but at no point did his mind think of questioning it. So, he placed a kiss at a pulse point on Billie's throat and shifted himself around, setting his knees up parallel to the length of the stack and smoothing his palms out over the silky material. For some bizarre reason the position and the pillows reminded him of church, of pews and kneeling to pray. A spark went off in his eyes as he raised them to look at the younger man. _You want me to confess my sins, Billie Joe?_ In the state of mind he was in he couldn't help but blush, colour quite obviously staining his cheeks even in the dull light.  
  
He swallowed and tugged on the dog tag again, the position he was in adding another degree of vulnerability to the amount he already felt. It felt good, though; before it might have felt too much, might have made him too self-conscious, might have brought an early end to anything they may have planned. Right now, trust outweighed every bit of stage fright he might have had, and the nervousness only added to the adrenalin and excitement. Glancing down at the pillows, his gaze caught the thundercloud on Billie's chest before coming back to those hazels that dually set off a dull burn in his stomach and blanketed him with secure warmth. He licked his lips.  
  
"Like this?"  
  
"Yeah. Yeah, just like that." Heated approval lit Billie's eyes as he took in the sight and he added, "Perfect."  
  
His tone made it clear that he meant the man more than the position and Lars's colour deepened further, delighting Billie. This was the part of Lars that he saw in a different incarnation almost every day – the not-so-hidden sweetness that made him do things like put ribbons on bottles of champagne. Or buy a programmable coffeemaker so that Billie could take hot coffee with him on those mornings when he needed to leave far too early after staying the night. Little things; there were always little things with his boyfriend. But this one, here, this was big.  
  
Unable to help himself, Billie moved closer and brought the drummer's mouth to his in a hard kiss, some of his self-restraint slipping at the trust Lars was showing him. He heard a loud moan as arms came up around him and he answered it with a growl.   
  
Soon enough he pulled away, a smirk appearing at how disoriented Lars seemed. Billie took full advantage of that and shifted position, sliding behind his lover, knees slipping between another pair and spreading them wider.   
  
The drummer stiffened a little and Billie braced his feet on the mattress, slipping palms up a furred chest to curl over tensed shoulders and encourage Lars backwards. "Lean on me, Uli. Slow, remember? We're taking it slow. I just want to touch you right now."  
  
He dropped several light kisses along the bare shoulder and neck, holding his boyfriend until he began to relax back into him. Billie remembered vividly how he had found his own ability to let go of everything at last in a position much like this: with his lover's solid body behind him, offering tangible, real support. He hoped that the Dane would find it similarly liberating as tattooed hands began to roam.  
  
Lars leaned back obediently, head coming down to rest on his lover's shoulder as his eyes slipped closed, concentrating on the soothing, almost methodical progress of familiar hands. He was sure Billie could feel the hard thump-thump-thump of his heart each time his palm smoothed over the left side of his chest, which only made it beat harder as if to make sure its presence was known. Those kisses delicately scattered over his nearby skin felt so good, and when they stopped he sought to reciprocate, head rocking to the side as he planted a wet kiss just beneath Billie's earlobe, then another on the lobe itself, drizzling a few where he could reach before resting his nose against his lover's neck.  
  
Billie's thumb grazed over his pierced nipple, drawing a high sound from his throat; the motion was repeated, and Lars whined. Sensation danced over bare flesh where hands briefly were, and he gave a small smile though Billie wouldn't be able to see it. "Feels good," he elaborated in a hushed voice. One of his hands came up to rest over Billie's as it moved over him, before raising further to clasp the back of the frontman's neck, stretching his body, opening it further.  
  
Fingertips followed the line between his thigh and stomach, delicate strokes flitting past dark curls of hair and making his cock twitch. It might not gain the attention it so requested any time soon, but that was okay. He pressed his body back, fitting himself tight against his lover and humming as he relaxed. _This is okay._  
  
His eyes only opened when one of Billie's wayward hands stopped at his stomach and he was gently encouraged to bend, the younger man staying flush with him until his free hand met the bed. Briefly, his heart skittered in its rhythm, but the hands still on him and Billie's calm words – _we're taking it slow_ – kept him settled. Enough for him to arch and moan, smirking at the answering groan. "Feels really fucking good."  
  
"Glad to hear it." Billie's voice had grown husky, desire infusing it. "You're fucking incredible, Uli."  
  
He followed the statement with the light scrape of teeth across the nape of his lover's neck as his hands checked their position. His aim had been a little off and Billie tugged the pillows tight against Lars's thighs, hearing his breath hitch as he relaxed into them a bit.  
  
Billie chuckled, smoothing his hands along his lover's sides. "There are a couple of advantages to this. One, I won't have to listen to you bitch tomorrow about how sore your back is." He grinned at the splutter that produced, grin widening when it transformed into a moan as his hand closed around Lars's erection and guided it to lay pinned between the drummer's abdomen and the soft fabric. He pressed his hips forward, rocking against Lars, and the high sound that accompanied the slide of flesh against satin hit him in the gut exactly right. The teasing aspect of his speech disappeared. "And that's the other reason."  
  
Delicately, he stroked the erection in his hand, featherlight touches of distraction as he bent to bestow wet kisses to a naked back, his tongue swirling along the knobbly vertebrae.  
  
"There's something I've always wanted to say to you, Lars." Billie punctuated his words with continuing kisses, trailing farther down until he needed to untangle his lower body. He shifted back, keeping up the light strokes with one hand while the other supported him as his mouth travelled lower. "You don't get to come 'til I tell you."   
  
He let go when he reached his target, sliding his hand across one bare hip to meet the other and spread Lars open to take a long lick, from the base of his balls, over his hole, and right up to where his flesh parted. Every inch of skin that concealed erectile tissue; that would grow unbearably sensitive with stimulation as blood rushed into it; Billie Joe covered it all with a film of saliva as he tasted his lover greedily, feeling a shudder run through Lars and hearing raw moans that had their answer in the ache in his own cock.  
  
 _New. New, new, new,_ the word flashed in Lars's head over and over like a demented neon sign when he abruptly realised exactly what Billie was planning. _Brand fucking new._ Eyes wide open, lustrous green stared down at the tattooed fingers – all he could see of Billie at that angle – and the one-two punch of the younger man's extremely familiar instruction and the subsequent flex and drag of his tongue had him vocalising loudly.  
  
 _Brand fucking new._ Age meant nothing without experience, and though Lars was about to be forty-three years young, he had never experienced this before. The only time he'd even approached the idea was one night with Kirk a decade ago, but they'd both been far too wasted at the time to do anything that wasn't really fucking easy. For no particular reason, it never got brought up again. Over the months in which he and Billie had been together, he'd repeatedly indulged in the most intimate tastes of his lover, but the roles had obviously never been reversed.  
  
The surprise and potential fear of the new experience were completely overshadowed by oh my God how fucking _incredible_ it felt. And this was just the start.  
  
His palms slid across satin as he sank to his elbows, ass raised high and legs spreading a little wider. His eyes fluttered closed and he rested his forehead on the mattress below. A tremor shook his body as he managed to speak. "Th-this is payback, right? All the times…" Unable to complete the thought let alone the sentence, Lars heaved a deep breath and released it with the only words he could manage. "Ohh fuck, Billie."  
  
The rush as Lars opened to him threatened to dissolve Billie's control and he forced himself to focus on the drummer's body, on finding a rhythm with his licks that had hips instinctively pushing back at him, as much as the restricted position allowed. His thumb rubbed along the perineum as he pulled off long enough to speak. The utter _want_ he felt sounded loud and clear in his roughened tone.  
  
"Payback? Maybe a little." He nuzzled the skin over the tailbone, pressing a light kiss to it. "Mostly it's about your pleasure, though. I want," he paused to lick, interspersing his remaining words with passes of a pointed tongue. "I want to make you feel amazing."  
  
His fingers caressed the rest of his lover's sensitive skin as he brought his face in close, tongue extended to lick circles around Lars's opening and then sliding inside – slow, so slow at first, but picking up speed soon enough as the choked sounds flying from Lars grew more urgent. Billie reached beneath the pillows to retrieve the tube of lubricant and coated his fingers. When he withdrew to press kisses higher up, the replacement with a single finger went smooth and fast, and his other hand closed softly around Lars's balls, fondling even as his mouth continued to work at whatever skin was available, skating as close as possible to where his knuckle disappeared and reappeared in a regular timestamp to the accompaniment of whines and gasps.  
  
 _Fuck, I've never…I didn't know this,_ Lars thought in fragments as that teasing tongue fucked into him, and he would have felt a huge sense of loss on its withdrawal had it not been for its quick replacement with a slicked finger. All he knew right then was that one night he wanted to come on the stimulation of Billie's tongue alone, and soon. This avenue was one he would insist on exploring in the very near future, because those few minutes were perhaps some of the best – forgiving the pun – tasters he could have hoped for. Briefly he wondered if his tongue ever felt that good. Not like he had the capacity to ask right then, so he'd save it for another time.  
  
 _Finger in my ass,_ his dizzy mind then offered, spine arching and hips bucking shallowly into the satin wrapped pillows beneath him. All the friction combined caused a long, low moan to be drawn from his parted lips, broken when his body was shaken with a light tremor. Then a second finger came, pushing in so very slowly, and it was only then when he really became aware of himself stretching around those digits, and his stomach did a flip, a thrill of alarm shooting up his spine. As fleeting as the feeling had been, Lars opened his eyes and craned his neck, a barely there whimper escaping him, needing to see his lover right there behind him. After all, the last time this occurred, part of the reason it had gone so horribly wrong was that Lars had expected to see James. He didn't expect it anymore, but it was a niggling little tweak of paranoia that he guessed would not be silenced, not on this occasion. The sight of Billie instilled more security and confidence in him than he could adequately explain.  
  
He strained to see over his shoulder, and there was that mop of black hair, full lips skating over his skin and hazel eyes that almost glowed with a heat all their own. He gave a wobbly smile and let his head drop back down, curling his fingers into the sheets and pushing back against those two fingers with a soft whine.  
  
Lars's flash of alarm hadn't gone unnoticed, and Billie straightened, shuffling closer until his hand pressed against his own abdomen. He reached down, breath expelling in a harsh gust as he grasped his erection and nestled it beside Lars's, and then his hips began to rock, pushing his fingers into his lover and rubbing their cocks together as he bent over the sweat-gleaming back and nuzzled a shoulder blade.  
  
He didn't have much experience at talking dirty, but he figured that one way to keep Lars grounded in the here and now would be to speak, so he gave it a try. His voice came out in a low growl as the satin friction worked on his libido, too.  
  
"You liked that, huh? Feeling my tongue inside you, fucking you. Me touching you so fucking intimately. I'll do it to you again. Maybe next time I'll jerk you off, too, and taste your orgasm from the inside."  
  
A deep groan ripped from his throat as his boyfriend pushed back sharply and he eased in another finger, spreading them slightly as his hand continued to work, continued to penetrate, his hips still directing the thrusts. He wanted Lars good and stretched – good and _ready_ , and soon, because his own body was beginning to demand some attention, too.  
  
Billie Joe sank his teeth into his lover's shoulder, not breaking the skin but deep enough to bruise, to mark, and then made his desires known in a guttural rasp.  
  
"I want you. Fuck, I want you so goddamned much." Another bite; he sucked at the skin furiously in an effort to calm himself down, even while he didn't stop anything else – didn't cut himself a break, either. "Not like this. I want you on your back, so I can see those beautiful eyes and kiss you," he panted, his supporting hand reaching up and sliding into his lover's hair to massage the scalp, insistent and encouraging both. "Can you take me?"  
  
Lars did reply, but the words were nonsensical, syllables strung together and sludgy and probably not in the language he intended. Sucking in a deep breath, he nodded helplessly into the mattress, everything Billie had said rolling around in his head and trying to find the right order – _liked that, taste, jerk you off, fuck, beautiful, want you…_ "Yeeaahh…yes, yeahyeah…" The repeated word he managed to expel sounded wet and needy, thin and high, the end melting into a groan. He trembled again, skin burning where Billie's teeth had been, head pushing back against the hand there, nuzzling almost. A stream of words finally came.  
  
"Nnnn…need t'see…need you, need to see you, Bill, I wanna, please…"  
  
Another tremor shook him, and he pushed back hard against the three fingers inside him, hard enough for a jolt of pain to shock through him, a cry exploding from him followed by a hiss. He didn't care that it hurt; no, he liked that it hurt – it was almost a year since he'd done this, and just once he wanted, needed to _really_ feel it. A pause, and he undulated his body, sensation rippling through him with a desperate moan. Needing a sweeter touch, one shaking hand prised fingers away from the sheets and came up to grasp the one at his head.  
  
"Oh fuck, Billie, please." And now he was begging, really begging, voice hushed and hopeful and like no sound he'd ever made with Billie before. "Please, please, fuck, feels good, I need, please, yeah…"  
  
When Billie began to withdraw those torturous fingers, the words struck him suddenly.  
  
 _This is it. This is_ it _._  
  
Working on pure instinct and adrenalin, Billie pulled back, tipping the drummer over as he swept the pillows away with one impatient hand, grabbing the tube from underneath them and applying a generous – probably too generous – amount to his cock as Lars settled flat.  
  
Green eyes shone up at him, naked and needy, with those nerves clearly visible again, there and throughout his body as another shiver trembled through Lars. Billie Joe dropped down, covering him and latching on to the mouth that had uttered such sweet music. He kissed aggressively, tongue plunging into willing warmth in a stark preview, then he landed several hard kisses on the smooth jawline, forcing Lars to turn his head so that Billie could suck on his pierced ear. It was a familiar action, a familiar taste; and he began to babble, nonsense pouring out of him that he hoped was comforting and not just stupid.  
  
"I'm here. I'm right here and I've got you; it's okay. I love you."  
  
Another demanding kiss, his body trembling slightly at everything Lars's surrender had stirred up. He repeated, "I love you," and then his mouth was gone as he rose, lifting his lover's hips. He couldn't wait; didn't dare. Waiting meant giving Lars the chance to start thinking, and Billie's every instinct told him that would derail it all.  
  
He pushed inside, slow and steady, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip as his jaw clenched at the feeling of it – the physical shock of all that heat and pressure, and the incredulousness that he was feeling this at last. That Lars had been ready; that he hadn't held anything back – nothing, he'd yielded it all – and the knowledge made Billie's chest tighten as he bent down, seated fully inside his boyfriend, and established a rhythm: measured, shallow thrusts, as gentle as he could manage right now.  
  
Abrupt movement, and Lars was flat on his back and kind of startled, clear green struck by fierce hazel with the force of a punch. It didn't scare him, none of this did; he wanted it, needed it too much to be scared. He didn't doubt himself or his lover, either, because while that ever-present nervousness made his body shake, trust ensured his mind was steady. The word _wait_ had swelled in his throat when Billie stole kiss after hard kiss from him, making it tight, but it never emerged. He knew that if it all became too much, Billie would be able to soothe him, knew it in his gut that the younger man would not let suffocating anxiousness steal the Dane away from him, not now, and he was inexpressibly grateful for that.  
  
He let loose a soft gasp at the press of Billie's cock against his pucker, and the shockwave washed over him, goose bumps rising over his whole body. Then pushing, pushing, and Billie felt _huge_ and his eyes were wide as his head pushed back hard into the mattress and he couldn't help but whimper and _oh God oh fuck this is happening oh—_ there. Billie's hips rested against his ass in a contrasting moment of calm after the flurry of activity, and Lars's breaths were coming quick and shallow now, staring up at Billie as he folded down over him, holding onto the anchor of those eyes as his body adjusted to the feeling of his lover inside him. THUMP-THUMP-THUMP went his heart, really fucking loud – _Hear how loud my heart's beating for you, Billie?_ – and his chest ached at it all.  
  
 _It's okay. It's more than okay. This is…_  
  
He looped his arms around Billie's neck, ankles hooking together as legs wrapped around a lithe waist in an echo of earlier. Colour rose in his cheeks again, and though words wouldn't come, he gave a small smile.   
  
_You've got me._  
  
Pleasure came rushing through him again when Billie began to rock into him, and the hands at rounded shoulders tightened, nails setting into pale skin. All he could do now was pant out a thankful moan for each of Billie's thrusts and hang on, letting his lover push him higher.  
  
That blushing smile might have been the most precious expression Billie had ever seen on his boyfriend's face. Even through the arousal singing through him – the pleasure building in his belly, spiralling higher with every minute, every thrust – he had the urge to shelter, to cherish and protect as well as ravage, and a gut-level understanding rose out of the realisation that this was what Lars felt when Billie let go – this was _exactly_ what his lover felt. It choked his breath and made his heart stutter.  
  
He stole a kiss, murmuring into the stream of moans, "Fucking gorgeous, so sexy. Love you so much."  
  
Billie straightened, feeling callused fingers scrape down his back as he drew upright, heated gaze locked with Lars's. His hand, already slippery, reached between them and closed around his lover's erection, beginning to stroke in a slow, counterpoint rhythm. A smirk graced his mouth at the resulting cry, hazels holding so much fire as he drove Lars closer and closer to the edge.  
  
The Dane's tongue flickered out, darting over drying, reddened lips as he arched into Billie's hand. He hadn't quite caught all of what the other man had said, what with him being so very vocal and all, but the kiss and the warmth in hazel eyes spoke more than enough volumes for now. They sent a ripple of heat up his spine, making him shiver in an entirely different way than before. The words may have arrived at his ears blotted out by his own moans, but he knew he was loved.  
  
"Billie, Billie, fuck, Billie…Billie," and he didn't _want_ anything in particular but to feel that name on his tongue, expelled in delicious rhythm with his lover's thrusts and strokes and the movement of his own hips, rocking between the dual stimulation. "Billie, oh fuck, _fuck_ , Billie… _ah_ …" The sound rose with every passing second until it became reedy and desperate, his body wracked with tremors and his spine remaining in its arched state. His moans were almost sobs now; he was too overwhelmed by the physical sensations to allow his mind to consider the deeper emotional ones, and were he more coherent he would have been glad of it – if tears had begun streaking his face, it might have been a little too much for him in this state.  
  
He writhed, arms sweeping out over the satin covers and eventually managing to push himself up and wrap an arm around Billie's head. He brought their foreheads together and stole a hard kiss of his own, fucking himself onto Billie's cock until he was rewarded with a loud moan. "Oh fuck _me_ , I love you," he groaned in reply, the words leaving him in a rush, and he licked at a full bottom lip before lying back, eyes shining. " _Please_ ," he finally breathed, looking imploringly up into glowing hazel. The fire swirling in the pit of his stomach matched that glow, his balls beginning to draw tight. "Please, _min skat_."  
  
Billie couldn't hold out against the exquisite pleading or the way Lars's hips began to crash against his. He let his reins slip, knowing that he didn't need to be as careful as he would were Lars truly a virgin; the barrier had been in his mind and heart, not his body, and experience told him that by this time, any and all sensation would be welcome, so long as it was _more_.  
  
His speed increased dramatically as he stopped holding back and the cry that tore from Lars's throat when Billie matched that rhythm with his hand, the high volume shimmering in the air, did him in. Billie shuddered violently in the grip of his orgasm, hips stuttering before he steadied and thrust right through it, growling deep in his throat.   
  
"Now. Come for me _now_."  
  
He bent closer, focus intent on his lover's contorted expression even as his mind blew apart with his release, and then closer yet, teeth gripping the exposed throat with a husky, distorted chorus emerging as he felt warm liquid cascade over his hand. "Mine."  
  
 _Way too fucking much,_ was Lars's final delighted thought as he came, Billie multiplying everything he was doing by ten, a hundred, and the word _now_ had scarcely left his lips when the drummer spilled himself into a tattooed hand. And Billie was coming too, coming _inside him_ , and oh fuck it felt so good, so, so good. Adding to that the teeth at his throat, and Lars was lost to the world for a few blissful moments, body shaking to pieces and throat releasing a desperate wail.  
  
His awareness eventually picked up on his hips still bucking, utterly wrung out but still wanting more. He opened dazed green eyes to see Billie still there, still above him, still looking down on him. His mind couldn't process much else, so for a few moments, silent but for their gasped breaths, all he did was stare, wide-eyed. Finally his throat grew tight and his chest began to hurt, emotion suddenly catching up with him, and he reached out for his lover, needing to crush himself against that lean body. His arms wrapped tight around Billie's back, pulling him down until he could bury his face in the crook of the younger man's neck, pressing closed eyes against sweat-slicked, hot skin.  
  
He breathed. That was all he could do. Cling to Billie – that's what it was, he wouldn't argue with it, he was clinging to Billie for dear life – let his body tremble uncontrollably and breathe. He felt kind of broken, but in a good way, in the right way – felt shattered into a thousand pieces, and right now only a few had come together to work, to make the Lars Billie was more familiar with. He hoped dimly that Billie didn't mind the Lars that was latched onto him right then; hoped that he liked the Lars that had emerged tonight. Small, innocent little hopes like that were all he could muster.  
  
He held onto Billie, his anchor, completely unable to speak, and just breathed.  
  
Billie had seen the dawn rush of emotion in green eyes, clearing out the haze, so he wasn't totally caught off guard when he was yanked down into a fierce embrace. Breathing heavily yet, he let himself relax into the trembling body beneath him, supporting his weight on knees and elbows while one hand went to sweat-plastered brown hair and he combed his fingers through the tangles. Soothing.  
  
Amidst the welter of his own feelings was the relief that he hadn't paused – had simply forged ahead with the permission he'd been given. For Lars to have had this tidal wave of awareness of his vulnerability hit him mid-lovemaking would have been disastrous. Now, though, it was okay. He'd already made it past the hardest part; he just needed some time to deal with it. Billie understood that.  
  
He rubbed his cheek against the top of the Dane's head with a soft smile, remaining silent for the moment. Continuing to listen to their breathing grow more regular – his before Lars's, but it began to even out, too. Continuing to pet damp, curling hair. Every so often Billie Joe turned his face slightly and dropped a swift kiss against his lover's head, content to wait for him to relax.  
  
He felt good. Physically, of course, though it did feel kinda weird that his ass had gone untouched – normally he'd be pleasantly sore about this time. In a way it underscored the magnitude of what had happened. And for all that it had been a total surprise and he'd needed to question Lars's readiness at the beginning, Billie thought the whole thing had gone pretty fucking well. Much better than he'd envisioned, truly; but despite his glimpses of this side of his lover, he could not have known just how much of himself Lars would throw into the experience. Maybe he should have. He didn't bother berating himself for not being imaginative enough to extrapolate that. Instead, he was grateful to have been able to handle it and humbled by the trust Lars had placed in him.  
  
When the drummer was breathing easy, if still clutching on tight, Billie finally spoke, affection shading his voice. "You're beautiful, Uli."  
  
Lars's hands tightened on Billie's shoulders and he made a choked sound. _Don't do that, don't say that,_ a small voice said in his head. _Tryin' to make me cry again, right?_ said another, but neither emerged from his parted lips. He did manage to say something, though. "Fuck," he breathed to Billie's collarbone, body still trembling. " _Fuck_ ," more hoarse this time.  
  
 _Something deeper, something better, something more. Motherfuck_ forhelvede _I did it. We did it.  
  
Feels good._  
  
He felt _so_ good. Overwhelmed and emotional as fuck, but the weight of this was gone from his shoulders and it was so much more than he'd dared to hope for. The last piece of territory James had held in Lars had been blasted away – this little Uli was another man's responsibility now. Billie had cherished him, pushed him when he'd needed to be pushed and kept his fears at bay, and the result was…well, the result was this quivering, limpet-like body formerly known as Lars Ulrich. He felt sore, though not too much, and there was that persistent ache in his chest, but…he felt so good.  
  
His arms relaxed, though he was still unwilling to release his lover in case he might vanish or something absurd like that.  
  
"I love you," and it was hushed and it went kinda squelchy at the end and he couldn't manage much else, but he'd said it and he didn't think he'd ever meant it as much as he did then. He pressed a wet, open-mouthed kiss to Billie's throat. " _Jeg elsker dig_ , oh fuck, so much."  
  
After a moment, his hands slid to either side of Billie's neck, and he brought his mouth to his lover's in a searingly tender kiss.  
  
Billie rested his forehead against Lars's when they broke for air, an irrepressible smile stealing across his features. He nudged the drummer's nose with his own. "I'm gonna take a page from somebody's smug book and say that you're gonna wanna do that again sometime. And so am I." His eyes sparkled as he shifted enough to pull out, chuckling at the grimace that passed over Lars's face. "Though I bet there were some parts you didn't miss at all."  
  
He bent for another kiss, feeling as though he'd done most of his communicating tonight with his mouth, and not in words despite having seemingly picked up a touch of Lars's habit of babbling. But right now something burned in him at the wet rasp of Danish that he understood, and he drew back enough to be able to focus clearly on beloved green eyes.  
  
"Mine," Billie whispered, and the raw edge in his voice coupled with the bright shine of hazels to betray more of what this had meant to him than he would ever say. He wasn't in James's shadow anymore. "All mine."  
  
Lars nodded, a hard _thump_ of concurrence going off in his chest like a kick drum, and he smiled at what lay in his lover's eyes. In his befuddled, nerve-wracked state, he had to admit that he hadn't much considered what Billie might have been going through, but it appeared in the gleam in that gaze that the emotion of this night had gotten to him, too; not quite in the same way as the drummer, whose demons had been lurking with whispers of the past and visions of sharp blue eyes that could break him. The look on Billie's face read a hundred things. _I'm here. I've always been here. Those demons mean nothing and I mean everything, and James is gone. I've always been here and now you know that. Nothing to be afraid of. I love you. Mine._  
  
The older man was almost back down to Earth now, hands skating idly over Billie's body and refamiliarising himself with the man who had an unprecedented hold on his heart. His eyes went to the tattoo, his tattoo, and he rubbed his palm over it in contemplative silence. Then, quietly and calmly, he told Billie something he'd never spoken of before to anyone.  
  
"The first time – _my_ first time, it was pretty cold. We were in New York in a kind of warehouse in a shitty part of town, and all we had to sleep on was sleeping bags and whatever we could find, cardboard, foam, whatever. We had to be so quiet, so fuckin' quiet, because Mustaine was passed out like five feet away, and if we'd have moved, the cardboard woulda slid along the concrete and woke him up. I felt like if I'd have moved anyway, it'd go, it'd be gone, it wouldn't have happened." He paused. "It-it hurt, we didn't really know what we were doing, so," his voice dropped further. "So it was hard to keep quiet." He swallowed, tiny lines forming on his brow as the memory flitted through him. He cast his eyes briefly around his opulent bedroom and back to his lover. _So different. So, so different._  
  
"This," he reached for Billie's hand, clasping it and threading their fingers together. He nodded again, movement so slight. " _Tak_."  
  
He looked over towards the bedside table, squinting at the clock but unable to see it clearly for the pillows. The bed felt damp from his sweat. "How long can you stay for?" he asked softly, almost timidly.  
  
 _All night,_ Billie wanted to say, but it wasn't true. He needed to go back home, consume the milk and cookies left out for Santa Claus, and be there when the kids woke he and Adie up in the morning. And though he ached to be able to stay, he also wanted to go home.  
  
Just, not quite yet.  
  
He had a better vantage point and read off the clock, smile widening when he looked back down at Lars. "It's just barely late enough for me to legitimately say Merry Christmas." He pressed a kiss to the tip of a snub nose. "I have two or three hours still."  
  
Moments like this were hard, when he knew he would be leaving Lars by himself. Their relationship demanded a great deal of tolerance on both sides, but even more on the Dane's, because Billie had his family full-time – including his wife. And though the joint custody agreement meant that Myles and Layne spent half their nights or more dreaming at their father's, they spent the other half with Skylar.   
  
Billie stayed as often as he could: when Lars didn't have the boys; when his own boys didn't need him. But on the nights he couldn't, he knew that Lars slept in this great big bed alone. He wished sometimes that it could be different, just a vague thought that floated through his head now and again, but in the end he loved Adrienne every bit as much and so he divided his time as he had to. The unpredictable nature of both their careers at least meant that it wasn't so unusual to snatch moments together when they were available – and that they were both past masters at doing it.  
  
Tonight, with what had happened between them, he would have liked to stay. In truth, he would have liked to fall asleep right here, right like this, and then make love to his boyfriend again in the morning. But there were three sets of dark eyes back in Oakland who needed him to come home tonight more than the green ones in front of him needed him here.  
  
He thought about what Lars had said: a surreptitious, painful fumble in the dark. His own first time had been full of laughter. He and Mike had had some idea of what they were doing – enough not to hurt each other too badly – but the bassist had still been all coltish arms and legs back then. It had been light-hearted and young, and free in a way that sex had never really been for Lars until tonight, Billie abruptly realised. Until he had shown his lover what it could be.  
  
His mouth moved softly over full lips. "Do you want to open presents, or just stay right here, maybe sleep a little? I'm good either way."  
  
Lars lifted his head, humming into the light kiss, before the word 'presents' registered and green eyes popped open. "Presents?" he echoed with a grin. He half-heartedly attempted to wriggle out from underneath the other man, arms and legs waving around. "Fuck, why didn't you remind me before, some things are more important—"  
  
Bright giggles and tangled limbs followed, Billie dropping down and hanging onto Lars, to the sound of simultaneously indignant and amused protests. The drummer gave up, going limp in tattooed arms. "Alright, alright, fuck, I give. Besides, I would say that you're the best present I could ever get, if it didn't make me feel a little nauseous." When Billie raised himself up, Lars looked at him with the kind of sentimentality his previous statement had implied, this adoring gaze coupled with a soft smile that he couldn't deny. He raised a hand and brushed fingers through black bangs, just a slight wave in them thanks to the sweat and heat. A warm smile with one corner tilting up a little more than the other in a little smirk at the silliness, stubble just beginning to shade around his jawline and top lip, and unlined hazel eyes looking down with a deeper affection than he could properly fathom. Colour rose in his cheeks again.  
  
 _Sure, there's Adrienne, and there was Mike, but I feel like neither of them have seen you quite like this. That look in your eyes is for me, and if I could be any more completely fucking in love with you, then that look would be what sealed the deal._  
  
"I wanna just stay right here," he finally answered, hands smoothing down Billie's sides. "I don't even wanna clean up. We can leave the presents 'til later – right now I don't wanna leave this bed, and I don't want you to leave this bed. I wanna curl up next to you and sleep. This is perfect, it honestly is."  
  
He paused, chewing on his lip a little, mischief leaking into his eyes. "Is the present a _good_ present?"  
  
"It's the best fucking present you'll get this year," Billie told him, grinning. Then he undulated his hips against Lars's and amended with a wink, "Well, almost."  
  
He laughed at the eye roll that got him and finally moved off of Lars, stretching to set the alarm clock and retrieving the stray pillowcase, returning the plump forms to their usual place near the headboard – with one of them conspicuously turned over, to both their amusement. Then he lay on his side, head propped on satin, and simply held out his arms.  
  
A tight ache rose in his chest as Lars came to him without hesitation and pulled the covers over their tangled bodies as he tucked in against Billie. This had been hard-won, this full acceptance of his need to touch; this last piece of permission to touch wherever he wanted had taken a long time. And while Billie Joe was a surprisingly patient man in some respects, there had definitely been days when he'd wanted to shake Lars until his teeth rattled and shout that he should know by now that he could trust him. Indeed, only his surety that Lars did trust him – that it wasn't about trust at all – and his instinctive awareness that pushing in this one area would, in fact, end up creating the opposite effect and increasing his lover's nervousness, had kept him silent.  
  
Billie wriggled into a more comfortable position and then he pulled Lars all but on top of him, giggling at his lover's wordless protests. He slotted one thigh in between a parted pair, and reached down to tug Lars so close there was hardly room to breathe, callused hands gliding over rounded flesh. He heard a tiny squeak at the shameless ass grope and ducked his head to kiss his boyfriend.  
  
"Mine, remember?" His tone remained light, teasing; but there was a deeper undercurrent and his fingers tightened the slightest bit in unmistakable possessiveness.  
  
Heat rushed into Lars's face at the grope, but he didn't dare giggle, didn't dare make it seem like he took this lightly or was, heaven forbid, embarrassed by it. He did kind of wish he could stop blushing, but he didn't quite care enough to hide away his face or do anything else about it, as if he could. He knew why he was blushing after all; he'd been struck and stripped down to his core, those shattered pieces of Lars Ulrich still not completely back together and cohesive; the smugness and the sarcasm and the wickedness had yet to really find their way back to him. And it still felt good to cling.  
  
He shifted a tiny bit higher, tucking his head underneath Billie's chin and laying his palm on the chest beneath him.  
  
 _Mine, remember?_ In this stripped down state, it made his stomach flip. To feel beyond cherished, to feel protected, to feel like no-one else was allowed to touch him like this.  
  
All that time ago in the ballroom, at that moment when James had walked in on he and Billie bent over that table, Lars had reverted back to the side of himself he'd hoped Billie would never see – the Lars that had belonged to James. Now, there _was_ no Lars that belonged to James. There was a new Lars in his place. The one that was curled as close as possible against the frontman, fingertips rubbing at his tattooed chest, tracing around a so-familiar thundercloud. The one whose body would shiver occasionally, residual tremors ebbing away. The one who'd heard the words _jeg elsker dig_ and felt tears prickle the backs of his eyes. The one who'd felt Billie lie like this against him in a shitty little backstreet motel many, many moons ago…and it hadn't felt so bad. And the one who now pressed a lingering kiss to that tattooed chest, green eyes slipping closed as he sank himself into it completely, and uttered one very simple, very powerful word that just tonight earned its true meaning.   
  
"Yours."  
  
There was the Lars that belonged to Billie.  
  
Billie Joe smiled; a soft, contented expression tinged with awe. He could feel Lars all along his body and he listened as the drummer's breathing slowed into the steady cadence of sleep, overlaid by the mental echo of his last word.  
  
It felt almost like the first time Lars had told him, 'I love you'. Well, not the very first, coming as it had onstage, but later that night, after his own total exposure, when he'd wrapped himself around another wet body in the jacuzzi with the sense that everything was right with his world.  
  
Here, now, that journey felt complete; felt reciprocal. Balanced the way it was meant to be – had to be to truly last. Billie didn't think he'd care to lay odds on which man's road had been more difficult, and it didn't matter anyway because in the end, they'd both been committed enough to discovering the potential of what lay between them to overcome everything they'd needed to.   
  
He remembered dropping a handful of condoms into callused hands in a dingy little motel room and asking silently, _Can you take everything, the way you said you were going to earlier? Can you take_ me _?_ And how Lars had proceeded to do just that, not only that night, but the next time they met, and every day since then. He was strong enough to take whatever Billie threw at him, including the vulnerable bravery he'd displayed tonight in giving over all of his being. _Yours,_ Lars had whispered, and finally it was true.  
  
The quiet simplicity of the moment made his throat catch; his arms tighten around the man sleeping in them. Billie rubbed one stubbling cheek against mussed hair in profound gratitude and closed his eyes.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final, last ever part of the _Saints_ saga. Thank you, thank you, thank you to anyone and everyone who came along for the ride with this one, regardless of whether you commented or not. As long as you enjoyed it - hell, even if you were repulsed by it but were curious enough to check it out - we're grateful. We started writing this whole thing in April '06. Here, in June '07, it's time to say goodnight to the heavy metal tub-thumper and prettyboy pop-punk ringmaster. :)

_Bleep-bleep…bleep-bleep…bleep-bleep…_  
  
Lars grunted, frown creasing his brow as he flexed his toes and wondered what the noise was. Fuck, he'd only just shut his eyes and now there was some fuckin'—oh.  
  
Prising himself carefully out of the stirring Billie's grasp – the two of them had scarcely moved in the intervening hours, unusual for Lars – the drummer reached across and shut off the alarm before the radio could kick in. He squinted at the time, grumbled wordlessly under his breath about it and slotted himself back in exactly the same position as before, arm thrown over Billie's torso and hand tucked underneath. He gave a small sigh and nuzzled against a pale neck, body and mind slowly waking up.  
  
Of course he wanted Billie to stay, of course he did, especially after the soul shaking events of last night. But that couldn't happen, they both knew that, and it had been the arrangement from the beginning, before either of them knew what would transpire in this bed. He acknowledged the little bite of sadness and now instinctive and undisguised need for closeness that appeared the moment he was conscious. But he wouldn't make mention of it; it wouldn't be fair to either of them.  
  
Instead, he reached between the two of them to pull free his dog tag, thumb rubbing over the engraved letters as he kissed Billie's throat, voice emerging in a rough mumble. "Want me to make you a coffee?"  
  
"I _will_ eat the cookies," Billie muttered peevishly, brow furrowing at the amused snort that followed his statement. It didn't go with the vague scenario playing in his brain and his eyelashes fluttered open. He looked down to see raised eyebrows and a grin.  
  
"Fuck off, you're no better," he groaned. "C'mere." He hauled his lover up farther on his body until he could reach a smiling mouth and kiss it in blissful denial of the fact that neither of them smelled or tasted particularly wonderful. "Coffee, huh? Yeah. No. No, better not, actually, much as I'd love one. I gotta be able to sleep after I unload the entire fucking closet under the tree."  
  
Billie captured another kiss, completely unmindful of his roving hands in his half-aware state. "Y'still coming for dinner, or just dessert, dude? You'll get to see 'least a dozen American clichés in action. Mind bringing my car? M'liable to crash if I drive now. Don't need 'nother DUI either."  
  
Even as his mind slowly chugged into wakefulness, it turned forward, and partially in other directions. But his body clung to the closeness and Lars's half of his heart was always oriented this way.  
  
Sleep-clumsy fingers brushed hair out of green eyes and Billie smiled mischievously. "I wanna see your face when you open your present, Uli. Let's do presents now."  
  
"Okay, okay, but my face might not be such a good sight if you poke me in the fuckin' eye, so cut it out," Lars replied with a grin and a chuckle, catching Billie's wayward hand before it inadvertently did damage. He skritched his head as he frowned in thought at the daddy duties lined up later that day. "Um, I don't know how long it's gonna take me to do the Christmas and cab service thing – I've gotta go back to my dad's, do our presents there, have breakfast, take the kids to Skylar's and stick around there for a bit, because I don't really wanna cut and run." He paused for a couple of swift kisses. "Then I'll swing back here, change cars and head on over. What I'm saying is, I'll definitely be there at some point, just don't go out of your way and make special arrangements. If it's cool, I can bring over some _grod_ , or at least get you the recipe. You can't ever have too much fuckin' food at Christmas, y'know?"  
  
Drawn to those full lips again, he lowered his head and claimed them in an indulgent kiss, a pleasant, dull burn settling in his stomach. It also reminded him of another sensation elsewhere in his body, one that he most definitely wanted Billie to know about. Once he broke away, he grasped one of Billie's roaming hands and slipped its palm around to the small of his back as he arched against his lover.  
  
"You should probably know I'm kinda sore," he murmured. A beat, and a wide grin bloomed over his face. Then, a little softer, "Been wanting to feel that for a while now."  
  
One more kiss, and Lars pulled himself up, groaning and stretching. "Alright, did I hear something about presents?"  
  
He slid out of Billie's arms and out of the bed, instructing the younger man to stay put while he went and fetched the gifts from downstairs, along with a glass of juice for each of them. Once he reached the door, he shot a haughty look over his shoulder.  
  
"Dreaming about cookies instead of me? I'm offended."  
  
Billie chuckled at the dramatic exit, warmth heavy in his body at the gradual return of Lars's usual surfeit of attitude. That quiet admission held its own warmth, too. The time for second thoughts had long since passed, even if he'd had any, but it was good to hear confirmation that it hadn't been as spontaneous a decision as it had seemed.  
  
He propped himself up against the headboard, using the pillow as padding. One hand idly picked at the dried residue on his stomach. He'd need to shower when he got home and reluctance accompanied the thought. Not so much because he enjoyed the itchy tightness, but because it wasn't his: Billie had gone to sleep filthy rather a lot of times in the decades that he'd been fucking men but this was the first time in years that the film over his skin hadn't originated from his own body.   
  
It'd been nearly a year since the last time Lars had bottomed; it was a lot longer ago that Billie had last topped. He hadn't even known Lars as more than a media figure then. Mike had been wilfully oblivious still that Billie had other bedpartners. And for all the work they'd done to repair their relationship after that first night Billie had spent with Lars, Mike had never again consented to switch. Indeed, his discomfort with it had been growing for a long time and it had already been rare by then; it was one of the many reasons Billie had continued to seek out other men after the initial flush of experimentation. He'd accepted the decree because, as the bassist's reasoning had gone, he had Adrienne for 'that sort of thing'. But what his best friend had not truly grasped was that they were two different situations and two very different acts for all the surface similarities.  
  
His fingers brushed over the marked skin on his back, remembering the long-gone scratches that had provided the framework for these scars – the complementary nature of teeth and nails. With that one savage act Lars had demonstrated a greater instinctive understanding of Billie's duality than Mike had ever comprehended no matter how he'd tried to explain it.  
  
That same bright grin of earlier found his mouth when Lars re-entered the room with an armful of Christmas paper and two juice boxes, straws poking out at a jaunty angle. Billie Joe couldn't help but laugh.  
  
"I wasn't planning to spill any, you know."  
  
"What, this not good enough for you? You conquer the fuckin' world with a tune or two and a lick of eyeliner, and now juice boxes are beneath you?" Lars retorted, outrage painted garishly all over his face. "We're out of regular juice, if you didn't guess."  
  
The drummer set the gifts down in the middle of the bed and handed Billie the juices, then went over to the window, throwing open the curtains to let moonlight and lamplight stream through. Crawling in an ungainly fashion back onto the bed, he settled himself sidelong in Billie's lap, ignoring his slightly incredulous smirk at the position and accepting his drink. He sipped some through a bright orange straw in a perfectly serious fashion, and pulled the glinting stack of gifts towards them – three of them in total, Lars's gifts having been split into two separate packages.  
  
This wasn't the first time he'd received a present from Billie Joe; wasn't even the first time in recent days. Having a birthday right after Christmas could have its disadvantages, especially as a child, but there were ways around it. Billie had asked that they celebrate it early this year, away from the hecticness of the holiday season, and Lars had emphatically agreed. When Myles and Layne had gotten wind of the arrangement, they'd gotten in on it, too – Lars had woken up on the designated day to his kids' grinning faces and their perhaps hasty, definitely messy attempt at breakfast in bed. He'd gone to sleep utterly spent, thanks to a raven-haired ringmaster giving him what the Dane could only describe as a lap dance without the hands-off rule, followed by a blowjob that practically blew his head off. Oh, and a copy of the mix tape that had been playing in the background during the performance.  
  
This time, it was about a present exchange, the opportunity to see the delight in the other man and then experience it himself. But as clichéd and sappy as it was, and though he was utterly intrigued by the present waiting for him, he couldn't help but feel like he'd already gotten the gift he'd wanted.  
  
Sipping his juice again, Lars picked up the first package and handed it to Billie. "This one first," he said with a smile.  
  
Opening a gift with a man in his lap proved to be awkward but Billie Joe managed it with all the finesse of a five-year-old, bits of shiny paper flying everywhere to the sound of Lars chuckling. He had a moment for his eyebrows to shoot up at the glimpse of red fur and wonder if it was some kind of weird sex toy, and then the wrapping was all gone and he stared.   
  
It was a teddy bear. Black eyes winked at him from a cheery crimson face over a chubby little body, maybe the length of his forearm from head to padded back paws.  
  
"Dude…it's a bear." Billie didn't even notice his boyfriend's reaction to that absurd comment as the fake glitter of silvered plastic caught his eye and he brought the plush toy to his face. A tiny dog tag hung around its neck and printed on the tag in neat black lettering was, 'ULI'.   
  
An incredulous grin found its way to the frontman's mouth and he laughed. "This is you? With the tag and everything? This is supposed to be you," he answered his own question. He poked the round belly and giggled. "Fuck, it's cute. It can go right on the desk in my studio." He leaned down and kissed Lars, slow and warm. Billie had certainly given stuffed animals as gifts before but he couldn't recall having received one since he'd been little and the silly sappiness of it delighted him. He had a feeling that every time he saw it sitting there, it would make him smile.   
  
His grin widened as he sat back up and regarded Lars's little smirk. "Thank you. Do I get to open my other one now?" At the nod, Billie reached for it, depositing the bear in the drummer's hands while he tore open the second bright package.   
  
The teddy bear sat hooked in Lars's arm and watched the proceedings, his furless counterpart doing the same while sipping on his juice with a sparkle in green eyes. Okay, so it was a goofy idea, and one that he himself might have turned his nose up at fifteen years ago, but Billie's evident glee at the bear made it worth it. The fact that it would take pride of place in the younger man's personal workspace was even better.  
  
"M'not sure how much you're gonna need these after the things I heard from you last night," Lars said with a raised eyebrow as holographic green paper fell away. Billie held in his hands two books: a Danish phrasebook and a thick Danish-to-English dictionary. "You might have gotten quite a head start. But don't worry, it's no big deal, no pressure or anything if you haven't. These are just…here if you want 'em." A pause to take in Billie's decidedly confused-but-trying-not-to-look-it expression, and Lars elaborated. "Okay, I'll cop to it, these two aren't really your gifts. The real thing sorta hasn't been bought yet, because I wanted to talk to you about it first." His eyes fell to the books in Billie's hands. "About there. I wanna take you to Denmark, but not for some nostalgic horseshit trip. I wanna take you there to meet friends, and hopefully over the course of maybe a week have the most debauched, drunken, fucked up time we can. A let loose fucking odyssey of, of I don't fucking know what." He grinned, eyes wide with animated enthusiasm. "I wanna fuck in strange places, I wanna wake up in the middle of Parken Stadium in Copenhagen not remembering the night before, I wanna crash parties and drink 'til dawn – I wanna take you on a lost week. What happens in Denmark stays in Denmark."  
  
Lars took a breath. "So, y'know. Learning the Danish for 'vodka' might be handy." He swiped his tongue along his top lip, just the barest hint of trepidation leaking into his voice as he continued, "It's just _vodka_ , if you were wondering. How about it?"  
  
The books were heavy in Billie's hands – weighty – as he regarded Lars with wide eyes. "I-I only learned – I only asked about a couple of things when I got the engraving translated. You've already heard…I didn't think to ask about anything like 'Merry Christmas', you know, it was back in the fucking summer."  
  
He took a deep breath, feeling as though he'd been walloped by a surprise two-by-four. "Denmark. That's," he paused, knowledge slicing through him. His verbal stumbling gave way to a hint of soft wonder when he realised. _He wants to take me home._  
  
Relief flooded green eyes as Billie responded, "Yeah, of course I wanna go. I don't know when yet but we can figure that out after the holidays." He placed the books beside him on the bed and trailed his fingers over full lips that curved to match his. "It sounds like a fucking lot of fun, Uli. I can't promise anything approaching fluency, but I should at least learn how to ask where the fucking bathroom is if I'm gonna be drinking that much vodka."  
  
He pressed a light kiss to that smile and tugged the last package closer, handing it to his boyfriend as Lars sat up and proceeded to demolish the glittering bow as he shredded the snowflake paper and drew a bottle of wine from the wooden box.  
  
Only one side held a label: a peaceful vineyard scene over which presided a 'sun' that was the curving, gold-lit edge of a cymbal with gothic black writing nestled in its glow. _Den Eneste Winery_.  
  
"There's this place in the valley where you can buy, like, a vine, and then every year they'll make one bottle of wine from those grapes and ship it to you. There's some, you know, papers in the box, too, the deed and that." Billie watched Lars carefully, not really seeing a reaction beyond shock. He gave a lopsided smile; obviously they'd both gone at this gift-giving thing all-out. Though he typically did that, anyway: after growing up with so little, there were few ordinary pleasures Billie Joe enjoyed more than giving a well-matched present to someone he cared about. Even if that happened to be something slightly less tangible, like Lars's birthday striptease had been. He'd been practising that since that damn comment about maybe getting him a stripper's pole to go with the leopard print thong.  
  
Billie smiled at the memory and turned his attention back to Christmas. "I told them what kind of stuff you normally drink and they recommended this Chardonnay. Um, the labels, they came in a package of six so Adie printed them all and I gave them to the winery. I'm fucking useless at Photo-whatever the hell, so I just told her what name I wanted on it and she created the design."   
  
He frowned at the glass bottle. "I hope it's drinkable. The sample they gave me tasted fine but I guess the wine quality will sorta depend on how your vine does every year."  
  
The shock on Lars's face began to give way, his own lopsided smile threatening to make an appearance as he skated fingertips over the label, over the cymbal and lettering. "Wow," he offered at first. Then, with a more definite grin, "Holy fuck!" On a third attempt and after a brief glance over the accompanying papers, he managed something rather more verbose. "My wine. Well, fuck, _me_ wine, with the cymbal and, and _den eneste_ and you said it was a Chardonnay, right? They recommended it? I knew they could do that, give you your own fuckin' vine and everything, I didn't think – _Den Eneste Winery_ has a nice ring, a nice sound to it, huh? They could market it – no, fuck, we could market it, y'know, _The One Winery_ , it'd be cool, like a-a joint venture between – no, wait, I don't wanna do that. This is _me_ wine, not fucking," he paused for breath and to collect his scattering thoughts. His hand unconsciously went to his dog tag, tugging on it lightly. " _Den Eneste_."  
  
His hand passed over the label again. "You, um, you said that Adrienne did the design?" At Billie's nod, Lars's smile became wider. "That's really cool."   
  
This wasn't just a gift from Billie, then. Adie had added her own element to the personalised bottle in, in Lars's mind, a further endorsement of sorts as well as simply doing what her husband could not. It was a thought that warmed him. He would be sure to thank Adrienne later today.  
  
"This is probably the most valuable bottle of alcohol I've ever had." He waved it aloft. "Special occasions. Special you and me occasions. So, um, hopefully it tastes good." An almost giddy laugh bubbled up, and he leaned close, dropping kisses and nuzzles along Billie's neck. "Doesn't matter even if it doesn't. S'awesome. Thank you," he mumbled into warm skin.  
  
Billie laughed openly at the wild progression of ideas, settling into a wide smile under scattered kisses. He reclaimed the bottle and placed it and the other gifts on the floor then stretched out beside Lars and fitted his body to the older man's with a sigh, initiating a warm, languorous kiss with awareness of time stitching a thread of bittersweet through his happiness. He needed to leave in a few more minutes.  
  
Ignoring that reality for just a little longer, Billie framed Lars's face and stared into green. "You got plans for New Year's yet?" A puzzled headshake answered the question and this time, Billie's lips formed a naughty smirk. "You do now."  
  
His mouth travelled along the drummer's neck to suck on a pierced ear lobe and murmur, "Adie's taking the boys to her parents' on the twenty-ninth for a few days. I'm staying here. All I gotta do is feed the cat and otherwise I'm yours." He licked all around the earrings and then slipped his tongue into Lars's ear, wiggling it suggestively; voice dropping to a husky purr. "I wanna learn what it takes to make you _really_ squirm."  
  
He grinned at the indrawn breath and raised his head, hazel eyes crinkling at the corners. "So what do you say? Wanna ring in the new year with our own brand of fireworks?"  
  
A wide grin bloomed on Lars's face, an anticipatory brightness appearing in his eyes. "I _do_ ," he replied emphatically. Then, softer, something akin to reverence in his tone as he bent his head to speak against Billie's lips. "Fuck, I really do."  
  
His turn to initiate a kiss, the slow slide and twine of tongues, and his palm accompanied the motion with a long stroke along a tattooed torso. It ended with a lick of something a little darker as his nails scored pink lines over his lover's chest. "And if I'm getting you to myself for a couple days, I don't think it'd be very fair if I didn't reciprocate in kind, huh?" He grinned wide again, nipping at a full bottom lip.  
  
Through this, though, it felt as if the clock were looming over his shoulder, and it was coming to a time where he could no longer ignore it. He rocked his head over and checked the minutes, letting out a small sigh as he returned his gaze to Billie. His smile had changed a little, more lopsided, a shade of longing for a little more, a while longer.  
  
"Alright, better get you moving before I get clingy," he murmured, feeling something twist in him as he sat up and swung his legs out of the bed. "Plus it is far too fucking early for me to be awake. I don't thank you for that at all." He stood and threw on his bathrobe and balled up most of the wrapping paper scattered over the covers. The rest he would leave until tomorrow morning – well, this morning. _Forhelvede_ , it really was far too fucking early.  
  
"The Denmark thing? I," he paused, hands slipping into his robe pockets. "I'm really happy you wanna go. It's gonna be fun." A smile crossed his lips again; and this one was elated.  
  
"It is," Billie agreed. His skin throbbed where the drummer's fingernails had dug in, lines already fading to nothing, and it provoked his awareness that he was leaving this house without a mark on him. That might be another first. Lars had been so consumed by his nervousness, by a level of openness he was no longer accustomed to and had never truly shown to Billie before, that he had been almost passive in bed – very much like the virgin he wasn't. And like Billie would continue to treat him in this, for at least a little while. Until the last bit of skittishness faded and his boyfriend grew comfortable with a fuller give-and-take between them. He looked forward to that, but he also anticipated the journey – and how long it might take, interspersed between the times when _he_ was the one stretched beneath his lover in mindless pleasure. The shift in their sexual status quo hadn't changed Billie's enjoyment of that at all; it had simply expanded and equalised the playing field. Given them yet more options with which to tease and then satisfy each other.  
  
Hazels took in the excited smile and the bruised collarbone – the dark smudge exposed when hands had shoved deep into the wine-coloured pockets – and something swelled in Billie Joe's chest. "C'mere."   
  
He didn't give the Dane time to move or respond; he just strode over and wrapped tattooed arms around the terry-cloth clad figure, ignoring the _oof_ as he squeezed hard and planted a wet kiss to the side of Lars's neck.  
  
" _Jeg elsker dig_ , Uli. If you come in time for dinner I'll set you a place then, and if you come later, we'll probably still be able to feed you. About twelve times over or so." A giggle escaped. "Long's you promise to stay 'til after midnight at least, it doesn't matter when you get there." He wanted to be able to wish Lars a 'Happy Birthday' at the very beginning of his day, despite having given him his birthday gift early because he'd known they wouldn't have the kind of time his little show had required over Christmas. Well, and he might have a small, slightly more conventional offering waiting, too.  
  
Billie chuckled, murmuring into the soft bathrobe, "Definitely in favour of fairness." He gave the nearest bit of bare skin another kiss and then disentangled from the embrace with a quiet sigh and reached for his clothes. "Would you call me a cab, please?"  
  
Lars took a bow, sardonic smirk tweaking his lips. "Yes, sir."  
  
Turning on his heel, the drummer exited the bedroom to fetch his cell phone from his jacket downstairs, the number of the cab company escaping him for the moment. That smirk had faded back into a smile that he knew would take residence on his face for a good couple of days – the fresh memory of their boundary-breaking night, coupled with the fact that, duh, it _was_ Christmas, and tomorrow it'd be his birthday. Less than a week after that, it'd be New Year's, and all the wicked promise that night now held. This was shaping up to be one of the best holiday seasons in recent memory.  
  
Once the call had been made, he deposited the crumpled wrapping paper in the trash and returned to the living room. Green eyes settled on the open box on the coffee table, the gift from James. He regarded it silently for a few moments. _Not an apology. Not a fuck you._ He approached the table and picked up the leather seat, looking it over. _Just a cool present from a bandmate and a best friend._ It was placed back into the brown box, which he picked up and took out to the hall, setting it down by the front door. He'd remember to take it to HQ if he kept almost falling over the thing each time he left the house.  
  
Cool though it was, he realised that he'd pretty much forgotten about it in the wake of last night's events. Not only thanks to Billie's gift, which had hit him far deeper and in a different way to James's, but pretty much from entering the bedroom with the knowledge that he was going to open to his lover completely for the first time. That was a good thing – if the gift had been left three or so months before, their night might have been tainted by a distracted and worried Dane. Now the thought settled into Lars's mind that that kind of thing would probably never happen again. James no longer held that kind of power over him. As he'd thought last night, shaking like a leaf and emotional as hell, this little Uli was now someone else's responsibility. And Jesus Christ but that felt wonderful.  
  
Lars leaned against the doorframe of the living room, folding his arms as he listened to the silence. Absently he skritched at his neck, giving a perfunctory 'ow' as his nails caught the bruise at his collarbone. He tilted his head awkwardly, attempting to see the mark and failing. The mirror in the living room remedied this, and he grazed fingertips over the darkened patch of skin as he stared at its reflection. He'd received such marks courtesy of Billie's mouth before now; this one was vastly different. This one made his heart stutter.  
  
He was disturbed by the sound of the stairs creaking, and he turned to see a fully dressed Billie at the foot of them. He smiled.  
  
"Cab's gonna be a couple minutes."  
  
His heart gave a hard thump, ached a little, not at the fact Billie was leaving but just at everything that had happened between them, _all_ of it, from that seedy bar to this moment, and the older man went to his lover and clasped his hand. His _partner_.  
  
"I love you," he murmured, and tilted his head, wordlessly asking for a kiss.   
  
Billie had seen Lars inspecting the bruise in the mirror and he passed a hand over it, thumb digging in slightly, before his fingers slipped into mussed hair and his mouth met his lover's in a searing kiss that was all too brief. He traced the stubborn jawline as he withdrew and tapped the tip of the Dane's nose, grin emerging.  
  
"See you in a few hours, dude. Here, car keys." The metal jangled as Billie dropped the key ring into a callused palm and darted forward for another kiss.   
  
The blast of a car horn signalled the waiting cab and he made for the door, not wanting to wake up the entire neighbourhood. He called back, "Merry Christmas!" and then, laughing, flipped Lars the finger at his smug reply in Danish just as he closed the door behind Billie Joe. Asshole, always needing to have the last word.  
  
He gazed out the car window as it wound through the silent streets. This one night, most people left their Christmas lights on overnight and everywhere they passed was lit up in festive colours like an explosion of hope all over the East Bay.   
  
The twinkling beauty of the residential areas reminded him that almost a year ago, he'd returned home with a piece of gauze taped to his chest and Adie had told him that she knew better than anyone how Billie could carry a torch for someone in their absence. He supposed that Lars had grown into a similar understanding since then; if he had not – if he had not felt secure in Billie's feelings – tonight would not have happened.   
  
Juggling everything was hard sometimes but in many ways, his and Lars's relationship resembled a lot of others where both people had children from prior partners – and put those children ahead of pretty much the rest of the world. Where the comparison faltered was with his marriage. With Adrienne, whose own heart was big enough to accept and, indeed, encourage him to be who he needed to be. That capacity of his she'd spoken of, how Billie could not only fall just like that but hang on to the feeling, keep it alive with a bare minimum of assistance from the object of his affection: his life hinged on that. His kids, both of his partners, his best friends and bandmates, his very career; they all intertwined and he somehow made it work because – even in the hardest times when it seemed like the world was falling apart – not a moment went by when he didn't adore every single piece of the equation that defined him.  
  
As the car began to climb into the hills of Oakland, Billie turned in the seat to look out the back window at the lights spread out below. His eyes went to the corner of the Bay where Lars's house sat and a smile grew as he thought that the drummer would be getting dressed now, muttering to himself the whole time about how fucking early it was, and probably cussing Billie out for it too. The books were a solid presence on the seat beside him; a reminder of who his boyfriend was and a promise for their future.  
  
His smile didn't waver as he paid the driver and climbed the steps to his front door, anticipating a sleepy wife to help stack presents and stuff stockings, and a glass of room temperature milk to choke down with a plate of cookies. Excited young voices in a few more hours, even if one of them tried to hide it. Food, family and friends all day, and in the evening, Lars, too. Everyone he loved most in easy reach for a little while.  
  
Billie Joe Armstrong was a lucky man and he knew it. He didn't have much in the way of book-learning, and he'd hardly classify himself as an intellectual bright light, but he had a lot of common sense and furthermore, he was a man who learned from the mistakes that he made. His marriage had faltered in the past because he had come to take Adrienne for granted; he didn't now. He took nothing for granted anymore. That was what had prompted him to make sure Lars was ready last night before taking the reins he'd finally been handed with a deep joy.  
  
As he laid the Danish books and the bear under the Christmas tree, he thought that maybe that was part of why both Lars and Adie accepted this arrangement, because they knew that despite the fact that he had to divide his time between them, he loved each of them wholeheartedly and made sure that they knew it.  
  
"A teddy bear?" came the incredulous voice of his elder son and Billie whirled to see an amused smirk on Joey's face.   
  
He crossed his arms, feeling defensive. "Yeah, what of it?"  
  
The younger Armstrong strolled over and picked up Uli, grinning as he found the 'dog tag'. He shook his head. "Here I thought _you_ were the King of Touchy-Feely, Dad."  
  
"Shut up," Billie shot back reflexively and they shared a startled laugh at the adult, if immature, exchange. He moved to ruffle Joey's hair and tentatively hugged him, his chest tightening when it was allowed. "Couldn't sleep, huh? Want some hot chocolate or something?"  
  
"Sure." The almost-teen stepped away and grabbed a few of the cookies sitting out, raising an eyebrow when Billie would have protested. "Oh please. Less that you have to eat."  
  
Once the late-night snack had been consumed in contented silence, Billie ordered him back to bed amidst hushed protests and giggles from both of them. Halfway up the stairs, Joey stopped and glanced back, a more serious expression on his face. "Is… Is your boyfriend coming for dinner tonight?"  
  
"Um, he might not make it in time for dinner but yeah, sometime," he answered, ignoring the punch of shock at hearing that particular description of Lars from his son in favour of being honest about the situation – and mentally planning a more specific discussion about it later in the week.  
  
Joey looked thoughtful for a long moment and then nodded. "Cool."  
  
He disappeared upstairs, leaving his father to sink down onto the couch back in the living room, overcome with more heightened emotion than he'd care to admit to another living being. He told himself that it was fatigue that made the lights on the tree shimmer and dance in his vision.  
  
The portrait of his parents over the fireplace caught his attention, as it often did. Billie Joe stared at the painting for several minutes with blurry eyes, thinking of the night before and how Torben had welcomed him because he made Lars happy, and of the precocious acceptance his own son had just shown, and then he smiled.  
  
"I've finally got my life together, Dad. I just wish you were here to see it."  
  
No one replied to his whisper but it didn't matter as he got up and began to place brightly wrapped packages under the tree, secure and warm with the knowledge that he was loved exactly as he was.


End file.
